


Strange Things Happening Everyday

by Skew



Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skew/pseuds/Skew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edna Jones never quite felt like she belonged anywhere, until the outbreak of war offered her an unexpected opportunity to get out of the sticks. Life in the US Marine Corps Women's Reserve would be just perfect - if she didn't have to go and spoil it all by becoming hopelessly infatuated with an officer called Andrea...</p><p>(Genderswap AU, of the 'what if everyone had been born a different sex?' variety. Femslash, with a large side of ensemble shenanigans and a smattering of bonus pairings that I don't want to give away in the summary.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Edna Jones

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a bit of fluff, and then in the way these things often do, swiftly got way out of hand. It's taken me the best part of a year to write, but it's tremendously satisfying to finally have it ready to post.
> 
> Huge thanks to Rivlee, for looking it over for me and assuring me everything was fine, and to Uniformly and Skylilies for their continued encouragement and enthusiasm during the times when I was getting seriously bogged down.

There was a new poster tacked to the garage wall.

Chuck's poster display was his pride and joy. He put the new ones right up on top of the old, the layer an inch thick in places; folks used to joke that they were all that held up his shabby little tin shed. The lower strata, paper turned brittle and pale in the sun, were mostly pin-up girls and last year's movies. The stuff on top was all propaganda.

Chuck couldn't fight, not with his club foot, but he was every inch the patriot. He put up everything the government would send: _Uncle Sam Wants YOU_ , _Loose Lips Sink Ships_ , even _When You Ride Alone You Ride With Hitler_ , which invariably raised amused comments from people who brought in their vehicles by themselves.

His latest acquisition took centre stage just above the rack where he hung his wrenches. It depicted a young woman in immaculate uniform, clipboard in one hand, curly hair springing from under her cap, standing proudly by a gleaming silver plane. _Be A Marine_ , it said. _Free A Marine To Fight_.

Edna Jones had been staring at it for the past ten minutes.

"You right there, Eddie?" Chuck called, laying down his tools and strolling over. "You look kinda lost."

"Just appreciatin' your collection!" Eddie called back.

Eddie and Chuck had been best friends since they were both in diapers. Eddie often stopped by Chuck's garage to pick up parts for the shabby old pick-up the Jones family ran, and also for a little conversation. Chuck was just about the only guy in town who ever gave her the time of day.

Eddie had always been a funny sort of broad. It came out of necessity. Her father was sick, and her mother worked to exhaustion taking care of him and ten rowdy kids, so Eddie, as the eldest, had been obliged to learn fast and lend a hand. Ma had shown her how to sew and cook and look after the little ones. Pa had taught her how to build and mend and shoot. And because Eddie had pride in her talents and made no effort to hide her toughness, and because she wouldn't stand down and pretend not to know things so as not to offend a man's ego - and because she was skinny and sharp-faced and more likely to be seen in overalls than skirts - because of all of that, she made a lot of people uncomfortable.

Not Chuck, though. He'd got more sense than that.

"Yeah, I picked that one out special," he nodded. "I'm all for dames doing their bit." He looked at the woman on the poster, and then up at Eddie; five foot eleven in her flat-soled work shoes, she stood a clear head taller than him. "Y'know, she sorta looks like you. Except her hair's longer."

"And she's got hips and tits, and I ain't," Eddie said. Chuck laughed.

"You oughta sign up, Ed, you're already swearing like a Marine."

Eddie cocked her head to one side. "Maybe I will. Could do with the money."

She'd have gone down the mines or worked on the roads, if anyone would have her, but until the war came there hadn't even been enough jobs for the men in this town. In the past she'd got by doing occasional work for whatever people could spare - putting up fences and watching kids and the likes - but that was hardly a living. Women weren't supposed to care about having a living. They just bided their time until they got hitched.

Which was alright for some, but Eddie didn't want to get hitched. Far as she could tell, it was just as hard as digging roads, and you didn't get anything in return. Other than love, maybe, if you were lucky, but for Eddie that was out of the question. Lord only knew why, but she was only interested in women, and she wasn't allowed to marry one of those.

 _That'd be another reason to sign up_ , she thought to herself. It wasn't exactly easy finding companionship in a small town where everyone knew each other. Some weekends, she drove out to the big city and sang the blues and mountain songs for the pennies the barflies would throw, and sometimes she might get lucky with a lady there. But this town was as dry of eligible women as it was of fertile land. It broke Eddie's heart, but she knew she had to leave this place, unless she wanted to always be poor and alone.

"You wouldn't mind it, would you, if I went off to war?" Eddie asked. Poor ol' Chuck was lonely as it was, being the last guy his age left in town. But Chuck just smiled.

"Hell, I only wish they'd let you on the front line. You'd be there and back with Hitler's balls on a plate before everyone else had finished putting on their boots."

" _Ball_ on a plate, y'mean."

Chuck whooped with laughter. "That's the spirit! Now, why don't you come on over and take a look at this shipment of spark plugs I got in this morning, might find something you like -"

Eddie followed Chuck into the depths of the garage, and pushed the idea to the back of her mind. Where it set down roots, and grew.

 

Six months later, she was _Sergeant_ Edna Jones, and life had never been better.

Unlike some of the other women's units of the armed forces, the United States Marine Corps Women's Reserve was not a separate or auxiliary service. Female enlistees were treated as fully-fledged Marines, performing the same jobs as men and receiving the same pay. Some of the new boots could be a little funny about serving alongside women, but for the most part, the men treated their fellow Marines with respect.

After basic training, each woman was assigned to the job that the Corps felt she had the most aptitude for. In Eddie's case, she was an obvious choice for an auto mechanic, and she was relieved to find that the jeeps and trucks she was tasked with differed little from the civilian vehicles she was used to. Furthermore, she'd got enough basic knowledge to be able to learn new machines fast - supposedly, she was meant to only concern herself with transport vehicles, with combat vehicles and planes being separate departments, but when an LVT had blown a gasket right in the middle of the camp's main thoroughfare, Eddie had hopped up and set it right while the boys were still standing around scratching their heads. That'd earned her a promotion to corporal, and she'd taken to the new responsibilities with such ease that she made sergeant not many weeks later.

Homesickness had hit hard, to begin with, but the friends she made quickly compensated for it. The women in camp came from all over the country and all sorts of backgrounds, from dirt-poor to filthy rich, but they were all - or nearly all - as close as family, with all the care, loyalty and constant bickering that implied.

She'd even found something more than friendship, once or twice. She had more sense than to make a move on any of the women in camp, but sometimes when they went out to the city on their weekend passes, she'd slip away from the crowd and find a nice WAVE or Red Cross girl with whom to spend the night. (Never a WAC, though. It went without saying that no self-respecting Marine would have anything to do with the Army.)

To put it simply, Eddie was having a damn good war. And then she'd gone and ruined everything by falling in love.

 

It was a fine spring morning on the day it all changed. Eddie had been up with the lark like usual, grabbing breakfast before the mess got crowded, then heading straight off for a few hours' quality time in the motor pool.

" _Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my darlin' Clementine_ ," she sang, pulling on the wrench in time with her singing. In her experience, jeep drivers were invariably maniacs, and wrecking tyres was their favourite pastime. Not that Eddie minded; she could've changed a tyre with her eyes shut. And while she was here, she might as well top up the air in the other three, and refill the radiator too. Maybe hammer out some of those dents in the side panel, or touch up the paint on the -

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

Eddie looked up to see a young woman stood a short way away from her, nervously shuffling her feet. She couldn't be any more than twenty, by Eddie's reckoning, small and fine-boned and possessed of hair so red it'd make Rita Hayworth throw away her dye bottles in despair. She looked completely lost.

"What can I do for you, Private?" Eddie said.

"I'm trying to get to the classrooms. Am I heading the right way?"

Eddie couldn't help but laugh. "Aw, you're way out." She got to her feet and led the girl out to the roadside. "You wanna head back down there, turn left at the mess hall, then continue straight on until you see the stores - they're low grey huts, easy to miss, so if you start seeing airplanes, you've gone too far. Once you're at the stores, take a right -" She could see from the girl's increasingly worried expression that she wasn't getting any of this. "Okay, y'know what, I'll take you there. It's always easier to remember how to get some place once you've seen the route yourself. C'mon."

"Oh, thank you so much, ma'am," the girl said. She followed eagerly, walking fast to keep up with Eddie's long stride.

"I'm Sergeant Jones," Eddie said, holding out her hand. "What's your name?"

"Sledge, ma'am," the girl said, responding with an unexpectedly firm handshake. "Private Eugenia Sledge."

"Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sledge. I'm guessing you're new here?"

Sledge nodded. "Just arrived a few hours ago, ma'am. Everyone else seems to have figured out where they're meant to be, but, well -"

"You ain't the first, and you won't be the last. Pendleton's a maze 'til you get used to it," Eddie said. "Where you from? You sound like you've come a long way."

"Mobile, Alabama. It _was_ a long way."

"Mobile, huh? I heard it's a nice place. You like it there?"

"It's alright," Sledge shrugged. "Where are you from, ma'am?"

"Oh, a little place in West Virginia nobody's ever heard of."

"West Virginia! That explains the accent!" Sledge said, turning pink when Eddie frowned at her. "I, ah, I was having trouble placing it. I thought you might be Southern, but it sounded too rough-edged."

"That's Appalachian you're hearing. Some folks reckon it's the closest thing still existing to how Shakespeare woulda spoke."

"Well, I didn't know that," Sledge said. Something about her tone suggested that was a polite Southern way of saying 'and I don't really care'. Eddie decided it was probably best to change the subject.

"So, what've they assigned you to?" she said.

"Gunnery instruction," Sledge said. "I guess because I told them that Daddy used to take me hunting. Everyone back home thought that was a little funny, but he loves to shoot, and he hasn't got any sons to take with him, so he'd take me and my sister instead. Anyhow, they seem to think that because I know which end of a rifle is which, I know enough to teach men how to use one." She wrung her hands. "I'm scared half out my wits. Who's gonna listen to what a girl knows about shooting?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Eddie said. "This ain't like home. The boys here are told to respect our knowledge, and if you've been made an instructor, they'll assume you know what you're talking about." They rounded the corner by the mess hall and began to head down a broader road. "So, how many of you arrived here earlier?"

"Twenty, thirty maybe? Some of us straight from training, and some who were working at Camp Lejeune and transferred over."

"And can you remember any of their names?"

Sledge laughed. "Not very well, ma'am."

Eddie was about to reply, but what they saw coming up the road towards them stopped the words in her mouth. Walking right their way was possibly the most attractive woman Eddie had ever seen. She was the kind of woman some people were inclined to describe as 'Amazonian': tall and broad-shouldered but with the hips and bosom to balance it out, her uniform spotless and her fair hair pinned into ornate victory rolls. When she caught sight of Eddie and Sledge, she gave them a smile that made Eddie go weak at the knees.

"I remember _her_ , though," Sledge said brightly. She snapped straight and tore off a textbook-perfect salute. "Good morning, Lieutenant Haldane!"

"Good morning, Sledge," Haldane replied, returning the salute. "I'm surprised to see you out here at this time."

"I got lost, ma'am. Sergeant Jones was just showing me how to get to the classrooms."

"Oh, I'm heading past there now, I'll take you the rest of the way. I'm sure we wouldn't want to keep the sergeant from her own work," Haldane said. She looked over at Eddie, eyes crinkling at the corners as her smile widened. "Thanks for your help, sergeant."

"Any time, ma'am," Eddie said feebly. She watched for a moment as Sledge and Haldane walked away. 

"Well, _damn_ ," she muttered, removing her cap in order to wipe her perspiring brow. She forced herself to turn her back to them and started off in the direction of the kitchens. She could really do with some coffee.

 

"Hey, gals!" Eddie called as she pushed open the kitchen door. "How's it -" She stopped short. "Are you running a kitchen or planning an invasion?"

The room looked as if it had been hit by an exploding newsstand. Every available inch of work surface was covered in catalogues and magazines, with JP and Manuela flitting around taking notes. The pair of them were like something out of vaudeville: JP was small, round and easily riled (especially if you made the mistake of calling her by her despised first name, Jacintha), whereas Manuela Rodriguez was tall, slim and almost impossible to rouse from her usual slow and calm demeanour. Jean Basilone was their long-suffering straight woman, and currently the only person in the kitchen doing any work, methodically working her way through a vast stack of dirty dishes.

"You ain't heard the news?" JP said. "Jean's getting married."

"Len finally popped the question? Congratulations!" Eddie said, going to the sink to fill up a pan.

"Thanks, Ed. And if you're making coffee, make some for me," Jean said. "I need all the energy I can get with these two trying to stage-manage my entire life from now until my wedding day. I only told 'em a couple of days ago and they've already picked out a dress."

"This is gonna be the biggest day of your life, you've gotta take it seriously," Manuela protested. She waved a magazine in Jean's direction. "Tulips or roses?"

Jean shot Eddie a wide-eyed, 'see what I have to put up with?' look.

"I told you ten times, I don't care about the details - long as I'm there, Len's there and a priest's there, I could get married in a barn for all I care."

Eddie lit a gas ring and put the water on to boil. "My aunt Matilda got married in a barn," she said.

"See, that's why you gotta make plans," JP said. "So you don't end up like Eddie's aunt."

"Hey, hey, it was a real nice wedding. Asides from Great-Aunt Mavis getting startled by an owl, but that couldn't be helped." While the water was still heating up, Eddie wandered across the kitchen and peered over Manuela's shoulder at the magazine she was reading. "Jeez Louise, who knew weddings took that much organising? There's a whole section here just about napkin folding!" She shook her head in disbelief. "Be honest now, have any of you ever been to a wedding and thought 'well, this'd be swell if it weren't for them badly-folded napkins?'"

"You only get one shot at this. You've got to get it right," JP said.

"Please," Jean scoffed. "Me and Len are gonna remember it no matter what, and as for everyone else - well, I don't know about you, but other people's weddings are all pretty much the same. I must've been to at least a dozen family weddings and I don't remember a damn thing about any of them. Well, except my cousin Gino's, and that's only because a couple of my uncles fell out and one of 'em ended up getting pushed through a plate-glass window. He had to have forty-three stitches!"

JP whistled. "Hey, Manny, is there any such thing as wedding security? Y'know, like doormen or something? I don't want no-one being thrown through windows."

"We won't need it," Manuela said. "All the boys'll be in dress uniform - if anyone starts anything, they'll have a bunch of guys with swords to deal with."

"You're asking everyone to come in full dress?" Eddie said. "Well, I hope none of the boys cry if they get catsup on their pretty white gloves."

"This is gonna be a classy affair," Manuela said. "There won't be catsup."

JP looked shocked. "What? Why the hell not?" She looked back over at Eddie. "I'm mostly letting Manny handle the dresses and flowers and stuff - the main event for me is the buffet. It ain't a wedding worth a damn without a buffet. And I'm no food expert, but those Eye-talians know good eating." She turned and yelled at Jean, "Your momma best be bringing us some of her cannelloni!"

"My momma," Jean said, "will be bringing everything. You guys I can argue with, but Mama Basilone gets everything done her way." She clapped her hands together. "Now quit twittering around like a couple of schoolgirls and give me a hand already. I can't clean a thousand dirty dishes all by myself."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh. She headed over to take the water off the heat and sort out the coffee.

"You have fun with that," she said, watching JP and Manny reluctantly snap on their rubber gloves and join Jean at the sink. "I'm getting outta here before you rope me into being the flower girl."

 

The rest of the day passed quietly, which was just the way Eddie liked it. Growing up in an overcrowded household had made her value every moment of quiet she could find, and she had a particular talent for closing out the world and focussing completely on her work. If she'd ever heard of the concept, she might have likened it to a kind of meditation.

It was nearing sunset when she was startled out of her work by a jeep roaring down the road at somewhat unnecessary speed. The driver swung it round the corner and skidded it into place, leaving long dark streaks on the road behind her. Eddie's response was a round of very slow applause.

"Eight out of ten," she said. "You lose points for stinking up the place with the smell of rubber."

"I'm amazed you can smell the rubber over the diesel," the driver replied, swinging her legs over the side and hopping down to the ground. "How's it going, Eddie?"

"Not bad, Burgie."

Roma Burgin had been in the bunk next to Eddie's during basic training at Camp Lejeune, and since their first week in the Corps they had been good friends, bonding over a shared sense of humour and a fondness for cars. They'd considered it a huge stroke of luck when they were both sent to Camp Pendleton, even if they ended up in different jobs. Burgin was a driver, carrying messages and supplies up and down camp and to other places as needed. She was on good terms with everyone, especially the girls at the QP, and always had time to shoot the shit and share some of the candy she'd managed to beg, borrow or steal from the supplies.

She walked over and leaned against the truck Eddie was working on, casting a glance over the tools and components strewn across the floor.

"Are you putting it together or taking it apart?"

"Bit of both," Eddie said. "I'm giving it a full service."

"Were you meant to?"

"Nah, but you know how these things get out of hand."

"So, what've I missed while I've been out?" Burgin said.

Eddie stroked her chin, leaving behind a smear of oil. "Well, Jean Basilone's getting married."

Burgin laughed. "Where've you been for the past week? That's all anyone's been talking about! When's the date, where are they holding it, should I buy a new hat... and that's just the guys. I'm lucky I'm out of camp most of the time. This morning at breakfast, JP and Manny were trying to get me to come help them pick out their bridesmaids' dresses - I swear, the only way I got out of there in one piece was by letting JP have my last egg."

"Oh, that's just JP. I don't think I've ever sat down to a meal and not had her try and steal something off my plate. Her ma must've not fed her enough as a child or something."

"It'd explain why she's so short." Burgin pulled a Twinkie out of her pocket and bit open the wrapper. "Anything else?"

"Lot of new boots and transfers coming in. I had to give one of 'em directions this morning. Poor kid, if I didn't know better I'd have thought she'd lied about her age. She barely looked old enough to have graduated high school, let alone basic."

Burgin nodded thoughtfully, and took a large bite of her Twinkie. Something caught her eye and she hastily swallowed, tapping Eddie on the shoulder. "Heads up, I think we've got some of those new arrivals coming our way."

Eddie peeped round the side of the truck and saw a small group of women approaching. Most of them were unfamiliar, but she recognised the one leading the way. Not difficult, seeing as Susan Stone was the only woman in camp who was almost as tall and gangly as she was.

"Hey, Stone!" she called, waving to her. "Who're your new pals?"

Stone waved back.

"And here you see Corporal Burgin and Sergeant Jones, the belles of the motor pool," she said, addressing her companions. "That's going left to right. Burgie's a driver and Jones is mechanic, in case you couldn't tell by the fact that one of them's dusty and the other one's covered in engine oil." She smiled at Burgin and Eddie. "New arrivals. I'm giving them the guided tour."

"Yeah, we figured as much," Burgin said. "Are you going to introduce us?"

"Sure, if I can remember everyone's names," Stone said. "Right, okay, starting with you!" She pointed at a tall, strong-featured woman whose curly hair looked like it might break loose from its pins at any moment. "This is Bobbie Leckie. She's a stenographer."

"And writer," Leckie interrupted.

"And writer, should there be any call for her journalistic talents." Leckie looked like she was about to object to Stone's casual dismissal of her profession, but Stone didn't pause long enough to let her get a word in.

"Moving swiftly on, this pair of troublemakers -" Stone gestured at two women standing next to each other, one tall and one short, both dark-haired and tanned. "- are Louise Juergens and Wilma Conley, although don't ask me which one's which, because I can't remember. They're both assigned to laundry, anyhow." Juergens and Conley (if it wasn't Conley and Juergens) both waved.

Stone pointed to the next one in line, a fair girl with a lipstick-stained cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of her mouth. "This is Lilian Smith, she's in the QP, and this is -" She stopped, frowning. "I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten your name."

"Veronica," said a small, slight woman who Eddie hadn't even noticed was there. "Veronica Gibson. I'm in working in the stores as well?" She looked utterly terrified.

"Oh, you'll love it," Stone said. "Nice clean indoor work, and you get first dibs on all the candy. If Burgin hasn't got her dirty paws on it first, right, Burgie?"

"The words pot and kettle spring to mind, Spearmint," Burgin replied, smirking.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stone said, and popped her gum. (Eddie had known Stone for three months, and in that time, the only time she'd ever seen her not chewing gum was during mealtimes, and when she was asleep.) "Anyway, last, but by no means least - if you'd like to introduce yourself, ma'am?"

The group parted to let the final member step forward, and Eddie only just managed to stop herself squeaking in alarm. It was the same officer she'd run into that morning.

"Ah, I've already met Sergeant Jones," Haldane said, smiling warmly. "We haven't been formally introduced, though." She held out a gloved hand. "Andrea Haldane. Pleased to meet you."

Eddie was not generally given to curtseying, yet she found herself automatically performing a little dip before taking the offered hand and shaking it firmly. "Edna Jones. The pleasure's all mine, ma'am." As she pulled her hand away, she saw a black mark staining the white cotton. "Aw, heck, I got your glove all greasy. I'm real sorry, ma'am, I think I got something that can get that out -"

Haldane laughed. "It's okay, sergeant, I'll let Juergens and Conley deal with that problem." She looked at Burgin. "You don't mind an oily handshake, do you?"

"I've been driving since sunrise, ma'am. I'm sure a little grease won't do me any harm," Burgin said, vigorously shaking Haldane's hand. "Nice meeting you, ma'am. If you don't mind me asking, which company are you assigned to?"

"Well, the enlisted women here are all in How Company with Sergeant Stone, but they've put me in King," Haldane said.

"Hey, what d'you know?" Burgin said, nudging Eddie in the ribs. "We're in King!"

"'Course, companies don't matter for us so much as they do for the guys," Eddie mumbled, feeling a little dazzled by Haldane's smile.

"Yeah, and you'll get to know everyone soon enough," Stone said. "The boys come and go, but we stay put, and we generally stick together. Have you met Lieutenant Corrigan yet?"

"She's in How Company as well, correct? I talked to her briefly when I was moving in; she seemed very friendly," Haldane said.

"Yeah, Hannah's great," Stone said. She moved away from her group of enlisted and leaned in close. "And between you and me, and don't spread this around, but when you get back to your barracks tonight, ask her about her whisky stash. You won't regret it."

Haldane raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure she'd appreciate you spreading her secrets to new officers you don't know if you can trust."

"Aw, ma'am, you look plenty trustworthy to me," Burgin said. "Doesn't she, Eddie?"

Eddie blinked. "Um, yeah. Definitely."

"Well, thank you for the vote of confidence," Haldane said. "As it happens, I have been lucky enough to have sampled some of Hannah's whisky already. That's what I meant by 'very friendly'."

Stone grinned, and Burgin giggled behind her hand. The others, who hadn't been privy to this hushed conversation, started to look suspicious.

"Anyway, we'd best be moving on, there's still lots more to see," Stone said, moving away. She looked over at Haldane. "Will you be coming along, ma'am?"

"Of course, sergeant," Haldane nodded. She smiled at Burgin and Eddie again. "It's been lovely meeting you both. I'm sure I'll talk to you again very soon."

Burgin waved her off. Eddie watched her go, mesmerised by the elegant sway of her hips as she strolled away.

As soon as the group had moved out of earshot, Burgin turned on Eddie.

"So, what was all that about?" she said.

"I don't know what you mean," Eddie said, diving back under the hood of the truck and pretending to look enthralled by the carburettor. Burgin ducked her head underneath it.

"Oh no? Soon as you caught sight of that lieutenant you got all antsy." The penny dropped, and a knowing grin spread across her face. "You've got a crush!"

"Don't say that!" Eddie hissed.

Burgin was the only person in camp who knew Eddie's secret. It'd sort of slipped out late one night on leave, when they'd both had a little too much to drink and were at the stage of sharing wistful recollections and whispered confessions in the snug of some dingy bar. Even then, Eddie would never have mentioned it if she didn't know she could trust Burgin. It was nice to have at least one friend with whom she could talk freely and not have to try and play along with everyone's assumptions.

Just because she trusted Burgin with the information, though, didn't mean she was happy with her bringing it up while they were in camp. You never knew who might be listening.

"It's okay, I promise I won't tell," Burgin said. "I don't blame you, neither, she's a real looker. Though really, Ed - 'oh heck, your glove's all greasy' is the worst opening line I have _ever_ heard."

Eddie shot her a sidelong scowl. "Haven't you got a job to be doing?"

"Okay, I'm leaving, I'm leaving! Watch me go!" Burgin backed away, hands held up in surrender, laughing the whole time. Eddie felt some small measure of poetic justice when she choked on the last bite of her Twinkie.

And then Eddie was alone again. She turned on the lights and kept working on into the evening, doing her very best to focus on the matter at hand and not start drifting off into silly daydreams. She had made a vow to herself when she enlisted that she wouldn't get hung up on anyone she had to work with, and she was determined to stick to it.

Eddie didn't know it then, of course, but she was completely doomed to failure.


	2. Restless Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie gets to know the new arrivals, the new arrivals get into all kinds of trouble, and Lieutenant Haldane gets a little bit too familiar.

Eddie was up at dawn again the next morning. She didn't have to be, she just preferred it. There was a certain tranquillity you only found in the early hours of the day, when the sun coloured the sky pale gold and the birds were in full chorus, and the camp was yet to be crowded with people and their business.

As such, she felt quite annoyed when she heard feet pounding down the track towards her and realised she didn't have the dawn to herself. Annoyed, that was, until she looked up and realised who the feet belonged to.

"Good morning, Sergeant Jones!" Lieutenant Haldane called, smiling and waving as Eddie caught sight of her. She looked very different from the way she had the day before: no make-up, her hair still in rollers, dressed in the regulation PT gear (a less than lovely all-in-one shirt and shorts combination that the girls called the 'peanut suit' because of its colour and unflattering shapelessness). Rather infuriatingly, not even being dressed in what was pretty much a sack with buttons could detract in the slightest from her attractiveness.

"Ma'am!" Eddie squeaked, scrambling to salute.

"At ease," Haldane laughed, waving it off as she came to a halt. "So, I'm not the only early bird in camp, then?"

"I've always kinda liked mornings," Eddie said. "Seem to get more things done in the first few hours of the day."

"Me too," Haldane nodded. "The getting things done, I mean. Given the choice, I'd sleep until noon, but seeing as I've had to get into the habit of rising early, I might as well try and make good use of it." She must have noticed Eddie staring at the way she was dressed, because she chuckled and added, "I've tried all kinds of things, but a morning run seems to be the best way to wake me up. Helps burn off energy, too. I get restless feet if I'm stuck behind a desk all day."

"I'd hate a desk job," Eddie said. "It's alright for some folks, but I'd feel all penned in. I don't really feel like I'm doing real work unless I'm dirty and aching by the end of it. Y'know what I mean, ma'am?"

"Absolutely," Haldane said. "And please, call me Andrea."

Eddie felt herself going red.

"Ma'am, I don't think I'm allowed to call officers by their first names."

Haldane rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, of course. I still can't get my head round this business of ranks and titles and salutes and why they're supposed to be so darned important. You know the men don't even bother?"

"I'm sure they must, ma'am."

"Well, I don't know how true it is, but I was talking to one of the drill sergeants yesterday and apparently, out in the field, calling a man 'sir' or by an officer's rank is as good as handing them a death sentence. So they all just use nicknames." Haldane shook her head. "Really, I don't see why it matters what people call each other, as long as they show the necessary respect."

"Well, ma'am, you're welcome to write General Vandegrift and offer him your suggestions. I'd love to see the reply."

Haldane laughed. "Maybe not, then?" She walked over and peered at the jeep Eddie was trying to repair. "So, what's up with it?"

"Radiator's sprung a leak. Common problem in the '41 models, but it ain't hard to fix. All I gotta do is patch her up and top up the water."

"You make it sound so simple," Haldane said. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

Eddie shrugged. "Well, I guess everyone's got their part to play. I know I couldn't have gone to college like you." Although it was possible to be promoted to officerhood from the ranks, only women with a college education were permitted to enlist as officer candidates, the same as with the men. Eddie didn't imagine she had the smarts to go to college even if her family had had the money and the inclination to send her. "What did you study?"

"I majored in History," Haldane said. "Funny coincidence, actually, my final-year project was on women soldiers in the Civil War."

"Women fought in the Civil War?"

Haldane nodded. "Oh yes. Of course, they had to pretend to be men for the duration."

Eddie frowned. "Didn't anybody notice?"

"In some cases, but not all of them. They didn't insist on full medicals in those days, and there were so many boys in their teens who signed up that a soldier with a smooth face and a high voice didn't seem unusual." Haldane looked down at herself, smiling wryly. "Somehow I don't think I'd have been able to get away with it, though. Shame."

Eddie raised her eyebrows. "You'd fight, if they let you?"

"Damn right I would," Haldane said. "I'm not saying they could make a fighting Marine out of every woman, but having seen some of the skinny little boys coming through camp, I'd like to think I'd be at least as good as one of them."

"I think you'd be right," Eddie said.

"How about you?" Haldane said. "You ever wished you could be out there, fighting the good fight?"

"I don't know," Eddie said. "I reckon I could do it, if they made me, but I'm kinda relieved I don't have to. That don't make me a coward, right?"

"No, just sensible." Somewhere in the distance, a bugle sounded reveille. Haldane looked at her watch. "My god, is that the time? I'd best get back before they send out a search party. I'll see you later, Jones."

"Call me Eddie, ma'am," Eddie said. "I'm pretty sure _that's_ allowed."

Haldane smiled widely. "See you later, Eddie."

 

Eddie worked untroubled for most of the day, right up until early afternoon. She'd worn her last pencil right down to the point where there wasn't even enough left to sharpen, and none of the other mechanics had any to spare, so she headed out to fetch some more from the storerooms. When she reached the QP, though, a large crowd had gathered around the entrance, all staring up to where Wilma Conley was sat on the roof, looking somewhat forlorn.

"What the -" Eddie said under her breath. Stone saw Eddie and sidled up to her.

"Smith sent her up there for a joke. She managed to climb up, but now she can't figure out how to get back down."

"God _dammit_ , Conley, if you got up there you must know how to get down again!" a woman with captain's bars was shrieking. She must've been one of the other recent arrivals, because Eddie had never seen her before; she was quite tall, and dark-haired, and would probably have been good-looking if she wasn't red in the face from shouting.

"Who's she?" Eddie whispered.

"Captain Jameson," Stone said. "How Company's new CO. She's been here barely a day and already half the girls hate her guts."

"I'm real sorry, ma'am, I broke the drainpipe on the way up," Conley called back down. "Lil told me people come up to the roof all the time."

"Lilian Smith will be getting exactly what she deserves later on!" Jameson yelled, glaring at Smith, who was currently leaning against the doorframe of the hut's main entrance and trying very hard to not collapse into a fit of giggles. "But if you don't get off that roof and onto my deck in the next five minutes, I am putting you on latrine duty for the next three _years_!"

"Is that really necessary, ma'am?" Lieutenant Corrigan said, hovering uncertainly at the edge of the scene. "I think Conley really is stuck."

"Bullshit. She's just acting up," Jameson said. "You can't go soft on 'em, Lieutenant. That's exactly what they want."

"It's alright, everybody, I got this!" came a loud shout. They all turned to see Juergens coming down the road, proudly bearing a folding ladder. She stopped to pull out the telescoping sections and set it into place against the side of the huts. Conley scurried over to grab the other end, set it steady, and quickly scurried down. She leapt to the ground, whereupon she and Juergens celebrated with a triumphant hug. Their moment of glory was short-lived, however, as Jameson bore down on them like a stormcloud in a garrison cap.

"Thank you, Private Juergens," she said. "Private Conley, Private Smith, you're coming with me. You girls need to get it knocked into you that this is a Marine Corps base, not summer camp. Nobody ever won a war with horseplay!"

Conley and Smith traipsed after Jameson, laughing behind their hands like naughty schoolgirls, while Corrigan shot Eddie and Stone an exasperated look.

"Is she always like that?" Eddie asked.

"Oh yeah," Corrigan nodded sadly. "Transferred over from El Toro yesterday, and if you want my guess as to the reason why, it's because nobody there could stand her."

Stone laughed. "You heard she tried to bawl out Shelton this morning?"

"Heard? I saw it," Corrigan said.

"Wait, _Mary-Ella_ Shelton?" Eddie said, eyes going wide.

"You know any other crazy Cajun broads called Shelton in this camp?" Stone said.

"Oh my god, it was hilarious," Corrigan said. "She was yelling and yelling, and Shelton was just standing there, cool as you like, not taking in a word of it. Which only made it worse, of course. Jameson looked like she was gonna burst."

Eddie shook her head. "She'll kill herself trying to get a rise out of Mary-Ella."

"Here's hoping," Corrigan said. She glanced back over her shoulder. "I'd probably better go check up on Conley and Smith, check they've still got all their limbs. I'll catch you later."

"See you later, ma'am," Stone said. She looked at Eddie. "I don't know about you, but if I don't get some coffee within the next fifteen minutes, I'm gonna fall asleep on my feet. You coming?"

"I just need to duck in and sort something out here first," Eddie said. "Keep the pot warm for me and I'll be there soon." 

With everyone still standing around gossiping outside, it was unusually quiet inside the storerooms. Eddie stood waiting at the desk for quite some time before a timid little head peeped out from behind the shelves.

"Gibson!" Eddie called, gesturing for her to come over. Gibson didn't look very willing to help. "C'mon, Gibson, I don't bite."

Gibson glanced around, as if she was worried someone was going to catch them.

"I don't know if I'm allowed to fetch things yet. All I've done so far is stack shelves," she said.

"Don't worry, I know how it goes," Eddie said. "All I want's a couple of new pencils. Standard HB type'll do."

Gibson turned and looked back into the rows of shelves behind her, frowning hard. Eddie waited a few moments to see if she'd move, before deciding it looked like she probably wasn't going to.

"Stationery's back left. Second shelf down from the top. Pencils oughta be near the pens and paper."

Gibson still didn't move.

"Oh, hell, I'll do it myself," Eddie said, and clambered over the desk.

"Ma'am, I'm not sure -"

"If anybody asks, I'm just helping you learn where everything is," Eddie said. "They can't bust me for that, 'cause it's the truth. C'mon."

Eddie led Gibson through the storeroom, pointing out the locations of commonly-requested items and telling Gibson to make a note of the tags and labels, before they finally reached the shelf which held the stationery. She reached up and took a couple of pencils from their cardboard pack, slipping them into her pocket.

"Now, what next?" Eddie said.

Gibson frowned, biting her lip. "You've got to sign them out, I know that much. There's a white form - and I think I have to mimeograph something - and -" She dragged her palm down her face. "I'm real sorry, ma'am."

"Don't apologise! You've only been here a day," Eddie said. She led Gibson back to the front desk and took out the relevant forms from their pigeonhole. She wasn't entirely sure of the procedure herself, but with nobody else in the stockroom, it wasn't as if either of them could be blamed for half-assing the job. It was only a measly pair of pencils, anyhow.

"See, and now we're done. Nice 'n easy and nobody got into trouble," Eddie said, filing away the last of the forms.

"Yeah, I just need to do it another few hundred times before I remember it," Gibson replied.

"Don't worry. You'll get it in time."

"I hope so," Gibson said. Eddie nodded to her, and turned to leave. She was almost out the door when Gibson called out to her,

"Ma'am!"

"Did I miss something?" Eddie said, turning round.

"Sergeant Burgin's having kind of a party this evening for everyone to get to know each other," Gibson said. "She said to pass on the message - I mean, uh, you probably know, 'cause I know you two are pals, but I, er -" She tailed off, looking lost.

"No, we haven't had a chance to talk today," Eddie said. "Thanks for telling me. I'll see you there." 

 

Even if Eddie hadn't known there was a party going on in her bunkroom, she'd have been able to figure it out pretty fast. The sounds of music, laughter and young women either having a good time or engaged in a vehement argument (at this distance, it was hard to tell) were audible long before the hut itself came into sight. Sledge was sitting on the step that led up to the doorway, slouched back and staring at the sky.

"Evenin', Sledge," Eddie called.

Sledge jumped, startled, and hastily rearranged her posture to something a little more decorous. "Evening, ma'am!"

"What you doing out here?" Eddie said, smiling crookedly. "Don't you know there's a party on?"

Sledge looked away. "I just needed to catch some air, was all. It heats up real quick in there when there's lots of people. And they're all talking so loud I can hardly hear myself think."

"Yeah, sounds about right." She sat down beside Sledge on the steps. "Smoke?"

"Oh, no ma'am, thank you." Sledge watched with obvious curiosity as Eddie took out her cigarettes and lit up. "Huh. I never met a woman who smoked before."

Eddie let out a long breath, savouring the first hit of nicotine. "Got the habit off my brothers. You should try it. Helps steady the nerves."

"Doesn't it make your throat sore?" Sledge said.

Eddie shrugged. "Sure, at first, but you get used to it. It's like drinking, there's a knack to it."

"Ah, well, ma'am, I've never drunk, neither."

"You're an example to us all." Eddie took a deep drag, and with a practised pursing of her lips, exhaled a wobbly ring of smoke. "So, you're from a small family?"

Sledge frowned. "How'd you figure that?"

"You said you couldn't handle all those people talking at once. You can't have very many brothers and sisters, or else you'd be used to that," Eddie explained.

"You'd be right," Sledge said. "All I've got is an older sister, and she don't have much to do with me. How many siblings do you have, ma'am?"

"Nine," Eddie said.

Sledge let out a long, low whistle. "I feel sorry for your mother."

"So do I, now I ain't around to help her lick 'em into shape," Eddie said. "I think she appreciates the money I'm sending back, though."

Sledge nodded. "I hope my mom's doing okay. She didn't want me to sign up. Neither of my parents did."

"Why not?"

"I used to get sick a lot as a kid. I had a weak heart, and I used to catch colds and things real easy, and I think Mom and Dad still think of me as all little and frail. They haven't got their heads round the fact I'm an adult now." Sledge furrowed her brow. "Sometimes I can't get my head round the fact I'm an adult now."

"Trust me, it doesn't matter how old you get. You'll always be a kid to your mom and dad," Eddie said. "And when your mom and dad ain't around, you'll always be a kid to us cranky old NCOs. How old are you, anyway? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Nineteen," Sledge replied.

Eddie frowned. "They've lowered the enlistment age? It was twenty for female Marines when I joined."

Sledge bit her lip. "Er, no, they haven't, but I -"

"Say no more," Eddie said. She tapped the side of her nose. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you," Sledge said, visibly relieved.

Eddie sighed. "Nineteen, though, Jesus Christ. You're practically a baby. And the worst thing is, there's boys younger 'n you already shipping out."

"Don't seem right, does it?" Sledge said.

"Not at all."

There was a pause. It would've been a silence, but for the muffled sound of loud conversation and raucous laughter coming through the thin walls behind them.

"Sounds like they're really living it up in there," Sledge said.

"Then how come we're sitting out here like a couple of party-poopers?" Eddie said. She finished her cigarette and stubbed it out on the sandy ground beside her. "Let's go in and introduce ourselves."

Sledge closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Alright then. After you, ma'am."

 

Eddie peeked around the edge of the doorway.

"Any room for a couple more?"

"There you are!" Burgin said, waving to them from the far side of the room. "Where the heck have you been?"

"Well, Sledge was taking a breather, and I was keepin' her company," Eddie explained. "C'mon, Eugenia, which bunk's yours?"

Sledge looked around the room, expression growing increasingly concerned. She pointed at a cot in the middle of the room. "Well, I slept in that one last night. But someone's taken my place."

The bunk was currently occupied by a slim, olive-skinned girl with dark, hooded eyes, sprawled out across the bed in a most unladylike manner. Her response to Sledge's accusatory pointing was a slow, lazy grin.

"What's yours is mine and what's mine is yours," she drawled. Burgin rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shift your ass, Mary-Ella."

"Fair 'nough," Mary-Ella said, sliding off the bed to sit cross-legged on the floor beside it. "S'all yours now, Red."

"Don't mind Shelton," Eddie said, as Sledge hesitantly picked her way over discarded kitbags and people's legs to get to the bunk. "Her bark's worse than her bite."

"I don't know, Ed, have you ever been bit by her?" Burgin said, laughing. Mary-Ella bared her teeth. Eddie raised her hand as if to cuff her around the head, but settled for an amused smirk, and pushed her a little to one side so she could sit at one end of the bed. There weren't many other options. Although the huts were large, it felt like practically every woman in camp was in there, and the heat and humidity were getting downright tropical.

"Anyway, like I was saying," Conley started up, "Glenn Miller's alright, but you just can't beat Count Basie."

" _It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing_ -" Juergens sang.

Leckie scoffed. "Jazz? Crooners? None of you have a clue about real music."

"What d'you listen to, then?" Mary-Ella said. "Nothin' but Beethoven?"

"Well, I prefer Tchaikovsky," Leckie said, and looked rather put out when everyone laughed. (Gibson very quietly said something about quite liking Swan Lake, but either Eddie was the only person who heard her, or else nobody thought it worth acknowledging.)

"Yeah, well, we ain't all as cultured as you," Conley said. "I just want something I can dance to, and I don't mean ballet."

"Hear hear!" Burgin said. She looked at Eddie and Sledge. "We've been stuck on this for the past hour. All I asked was if anyone wanted to put on a record, but then JP and Manuela couldn't decide between Bing Crosby and Rudy Vallee, and Smith and Conley have been having this long debate about the best swing band -"

"I still say Glenn Miller's better!" Smith yelled from the other side of the room.

"What about Tommy Dorsey?" De L'Eau suggested, but Burgin ignored her and kept on.

"-and now it looks like Leckie's gonna tell us why we're all philistines for not knowing our Strauss from our Berlioz."

"All I said was I like classical music better," Leckie grumbled.

"No, you said _we_ didn't have a clue," Conley said. No doubt the arguing would have resumed all over again if they hadn't been interrupted by the door squealing on its hinges as someone pushed it open. There was a brief, panicked flurry of activity as everyone leapt to their feet to salute Lieutenant Haldane. She laughed and waved it off, removing her hat as she came in.

"Oh, drop the formalities. It's far too late to be standing to attention," she said. "I just came by to say that I can hear you all from outside. It's nice to see you all getting to know one another, but Major Puller's on the prowl and I don't want to see any of you disciplined for making a ruckus." She looked out across the room, eyes widening as she realised just how crowded it was. "What were you all arguing about, anyway?"

"Musicians," Burgin said. "And who's best. What kinda stuff do you listen to, ma'am?"

"Oh, a little of everything," Haldane said, carefully closing the door behind her. She neatly wove her way around everyone and perched on the end of Burgin's bunk. "Though I think I like show tunes the best. Nobody writes songs quite like Cole Porter."

"What about Rodgers and Hammerstein, ma'am?" Leckie suggested.

"Ten of Rodgers and Hammerstein aren't worth one Cole Porter," Haldane said. "Now, if you'd said Rodgers and _Hart_..."

And the debate started all over again. It was a bit more restrained with an officer in the room, but just as impassioned, with the disagreement over songwriters giving way to discussion of who sang their songs best, and then, almost out of nowhere, a brief and very rowdy rendition of the title song from _Oklahoma!_ which resulted in everyone collapsing into hysterical laughter.

"And how about you, Sergeant Jones?" Haldane said suddenly, turning on Eddie. "Who's your favourite?"

JP groaned. "Aw, ma'am, you shouldn't 'a said that. Now we'll be here all night."

Eddie had stayed diplomatically quiet throughout most of the discussion. She was by no means lacking in strong opinions about music, but there was very little overlap between her tastes and what everyone else had been talking about.

"Well, ma'am, that's a tough one," she said. "But at the present moment, I'd say it's Sister Rosetta Tharpe."

"Can't say I've ever heard of her," Haldane said.

"Prob'ly just one of Eddie's crazy hick neighbours," Mary-Ella said, smirking.

"That's where you're wrong, Shelton. Gimme a moment -" Eddie got up and made her way across the room to the gramophone, kneeling down to root through the box of records. Most times, whoever got to the delivery first got the records first, and one barrack hut wouldn't get a disc until the previous owner had got sick of it. Nine times out of ten, that meant that by the time the girls got hold of it, everything was well out of date.

But not this one. It'd probably been a mistake to begin with; they hardly ever sent race records to a white camp like Pendleton. Certainly none of the boys had been interested. But Eddie had seen that name on the sleeve and dived like a hawk.

"Listen and learn, ladies."

Eddie slipped the record from its cover and reverently set it in place on the turntable. First there was a hushed hiss as the record began to turn, and then suddenly, startlingly, an electric guitar rang out. It was followed a few beats later by a piano coming to join it, and then a voice, high and powerful.

" _There are strange things, happening every day..._ "

"Hey, this is pretty good," Haldane said, tapping her feet in time. "It's the kind of music that makes you want to get up and dance." She smiled widely at Eddie. "You know how to jitterbug, don't you, sergeant?"

Eddie laughed. "'Fraid not, ma'am. Back home it's all flat-footing and square-dancing. And nobody wanted to be my partner at cotillion - my feet are huge!"

"Well, it's never too late to learn." Haldane stood up, offering her hands. "Come on."

"Sure, ma'am?"

"Sergeant Jones, I am always sure."

"Go on, Ed!" Burgin said.

JP nudged Manuela. "This oughta be worth a laugh."

Eddie was sure she'd turned red from her hairline to her toes, but she wasn't going to refuse an order. As the others scooted back to clear some space, she rose and walked over to take Haldane's hands.

"Okay, ma'am, I'm here now. Lead the way."

"Oh, gosh, I don't normally dance lead. Not to mention that you're taller than me. On the other hand, a lead who doesn't know what they're doing is no use at all... well, I'm sure we can work it out as we go." Haldane carefully arranged Eddie's hands, settling one on her shoulder and clasping the other. She placed her free hand on Eddie's back, just between her shoulderblades. Eddie could feel the warmth of Haldane's palm through the thin fabric of her shirt, skin prickling so hot she could imagine there'd be a scorched handprint left behind.

"Now, if you just try and mirror what I'm doing," Haldane said. "It doesn't matter too much what you do with your feet, as long as you keep following me." Eddie could hear Haldane's shoes tapping out a rhythm on the floor as she moved - slow, slow, quick-quick-slow, a syncopated beat that followed the structure of the music. It was all she could do to keep up, especially when Haldane turned her, but she just about managed to stay in time.

The record wasn't long, and it ended just as Eddie was starting to get comfortable, but Burgin dashed over and put the needle back to the start again.

"See, now you're getting the hang of it!" Haldane said, as they fell into the rhythm again. "Now, how about we step it up a bit?"

She spun Eddie down the room and back, their feet thundering on the floorboards. Haldane broke away and twirled, then spun back into Eddie's arms, making Eddie stagger back with surprise. She swiftly regained control, though - as long as she focussed on staying in time and trying not to step on Haldane's feet, she wasn't distracted by Haldane's ecstatic smile, or the moments when they were pressed close together.

"And now, finish on a dip!"

As the song ended, Eddie found herself literally swept off her feet, her shoes skidding on the floor as Haldane swung her low, strong arms holding her tightly. The girls around them were clapping and whooping, but as far as Eddie was concerned, her whole world was a pair of blue eyes and honey-coloured curls brushing against her cheeks.

"What in the name of little green apples d'you call this?"

They looked round. Major Puller was standing at the door, not looking best pleased.

_Great timing, Chesty_ , Eddie thought in the split-second before Haldane's grip gave out and she fell in an ungainly heap on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, an example of the 'peanut suit' referred to in the first scene can be seen on [this page](http://www.blitzkriegbaby.de/usmcwr/usmcwr3ba.htm); scroll down towards the bottom. (The rest of [Blitzkrieg Baby](http://www.blitzkriegbaby.de/) is definitely worth checking out for more information on the USMCWR and other women's services. It was an incredibly useful starting point for my research.)
> 
> The song that Andrea and Eddie dance to, and which gives this story its title, is (obviously) Strange Things Happening Everyday, by Sister Rosetta Tharpe - [here's a link to the song on Youtube](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LzqGq6jiorg). I'm using a bit of dramatic license with regards to the dates, as these early chapters take place round about May 1944 and the song wasn't released until later in the year, but I'll hope you'll forgive me a little bit of fudging for the sake of a good title.


	3. The Marines At Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend, and that means it's time for rest and recreation - not that there's going to be very much of the former once Andrea Haldane gets her heart set on a project.

Weekends in camp were always a little different.

It was much quieter, for a start. Most of the camp took their weekend passes and headed out for San Diego first thing on a Saturday morning, and they didn't come back until just before curfew on Sunday night. For those who chose to or had no other option but to stay behind, there was still work to do, but also plenty of time for recreation - which for the majority, male and female alike, meant sport.

Eddie was not part of that majority. She was fit enough to never have had a problem with the usual drill and calisthenics, and a decent runner when the situation called for it, but team games left her cold. Just the thought of them was enough to bring back horrible memories of high school gym class, always tripping over her feet or missing the ball, making such a fool of herself that nobody thought it worth bothering to teach her. As such, her main contribution to the sporting life of the camp was joining the crowd of spectators that often formed when the men were playing pick-up football.

"Who's winning?" she said, strolling up to the group of women sat on the grassy slope that overlooked the pitch.

"Who cares?" Mary-Ella said. "I just like watching the guys sweat."

"Shirts are leading skins twenty points to twelve," Leckie said. "You just missed a beautiful play, sarge. That skinny redheaded guy down there - I think his name's Stevens - he just sent a pass rocketing downfield, and Lieutenant Keller leapt up and intercepted it easy as picking an apple from a tree."

"Lucky's got a thing about Keller," Smith said.

Leckie scowled. "Shut up, Hoosier."

"Hoosier?" Eddie said, sitting down beside them.

"I'm terrible with names," Leckie said. "So everyone gets a nickname. I'm Lucky, she's the Hoosier, that's Snafu, the two from the laundry are Chuckler and Runner - you get the idea."

"Have I got a nickname?" Eddie asked.

Leckie laughed, and looked a little sheepish. "Well, I hadn't wanted to say this to your face, but we've been calling you Hillbilly Jones."

"Hillbilly Jones?" Eddie was too amused to be offended. "Christ, you make it sound like I oughta be chewing on a corn stalk and hanging out with Barney Google."

"Hoosier came up with that one," Leckie said.

"Yeah, and _you_ kept using it!" said Hoosier (it wasn't at all difficult for Eddie to switch the names in her head; it was one less Smith to remember). "Why d'you keep pinning things on me?"

"'Cause they're usually your fault."

Hoosier sniffed disdainfully. "Anyway, as I was saying," she said, "Lucky's sweet on Lieutenant Keller."

Mary-Ella nodded. "She's been writing poetry and everything. Every night she's scritchin' away in her notebook, writing odes to Keller's butt."

"I have not!" Leckie said. She paused. "Half a sonnet, at the most. Which I abandoned. And there weren't any lines about his butt in it at all." She turned her attention back to the game, sighing wistfully. "And even if there had been, so what? You cannot deny that that is a fine set of buttocks."

"Don't mean you have to go writin' sonnets, though," Mary-Ella said. "Just ogle like a normal person."

"You wouldn't know normal if it was introduced to you at the debutante's ball." 

"Ooh, big talk!" Mary-Ella held up her hands in feigned horror. "What'cha gonna do, write some limericks about how meeeean I am?"

Leckie smirked. "'Course not, Snaf. My revenge'll be much more original than - oh, did you _see_ that kick?" She leapt to her feet, applauding enthusiastically. "Go on, Lieutenant!"

"Shoulda been a cheerleader, Lucky," Hoosier said.

"Watch out, officer comin'," Mary-Ella said, sitting up suddenly. They all stood to salute as Haldane came strolling along the ridge towards them. For once, she returned it properly rather than trying to dismiss the whole thing.

"At ease," she said, coming to a stop. She looked down across the field, squinting in the sun. "Who's winning?"

"Skins," Eddie said. "No, shirts - Leckie?"

"Shirts," Leckie confirmed.

Haldane watched for a moment or two. "Yes, they're playing a much better game. The skins keep chasing around all over the place, but Keller's got his side organised into a decent offensive formation."

"Formation? It's only pick-up football," Hoosier said.

"There's more to football than just tossing a ball around, y'know," Haldane said. "It's all about strategy. Really, football is just an extremely violent form of chess."

"Or war with a slightly reduced chance of injury," Leckie said.

"Exactly!" Haldane sat down on the grass, resting her arms on her knees, leaning forward to get the best view of the game. The others followed her lead and sat down again. 

"I didn't have you down as a football expert, ma'am," Eddie said.

"Oh, it's my favourite sport!" Haldane said. "I used to play it all the time at college."

"I didn't think they had women's teams in college football," Leckie said, frowning.

"They don't," Haldane said. "We had a hard enough time persuading the college just to let us play games against each other, and there certainly wasn't any kind of league to compete in. Once, and I swear this is true, I was called up in front of the Dean, who told me in all seriousness that she admired my spirit but was reluctant to let us continue in case we permanently damaged our - what was that phrase she used? Oh yes! - our 'feminine apparatus'."

"And what did you say to that?" Eddie said.

"Something along the lines of that if my feminine apparatus was strong enough to withstand childbirth, I was sure it could take a few knocks," Haldane said. "She wasn't very happy about that. In fact, she quite wanted to expel me. But we had enough of the faculty on our side to persuade her to change her mind. Plus, I was captain of the softball team and head of the student council, so they could hardly afford to lose me."

"Captain of the softball team _and_ head of the student council? Where'd you find the time to do your degree?" Eddie said. Haldane laughed.

"I didn't. Barely scraped a pass in the end." She stopped, distracted by something going on down on the field, and then jumped to her feet. "Hey, boys!" she called.

Some of them stopped.

"Well, hello, Lieutenant," the guy heading up the skins team called. "Planning to set up a cheer squad?"

"Not quite, sergeant. In fact, I was wondering if I could join you."

There were surprised looks, both from the men on the field, and from Hoosier and Leckie exchanging a doubtful glance behind Haldane's back.

"Obviously, I'll have to play shirts," Haldane said.

"Aw, shame!" someone called.

"Pearson, have some respect for an officer!" Keller shouted. He looked up at Haldane. "Are you sure about this? The boys play pretty rough."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't think I could take it," Haldane replied.

Keller shrugged. "Well, you're welcome to try."

Haldane eagerly dashed down the hill to join them.

The two teams squared off against each other, and with a shout from Keller and a quick snap back to one of his boys, the game began again. At first the other players seemed reluctant to acknowledge Haldane. Then a couple of minutes in, one of them threw a long pass upfield. One of the skins teams jumped, and looked likely to take it, when Haldane shouldered him out of the way and grabbed the ball, and quickly turned to toss it over to its intended recipient. 

In the following minutes she made several rushes forwards, moving with astonishing speed and agility, though no doubt helped by the fact the other team were rather reluctant to tackle her. Not until she was perilously close to scoring a touchdown did one of the skins finally throw aside decorum and launch himself headlong in her direction; they tumbled over and over in the mud, fighting over the ball, until Haldane was finally forced to let it touch the ground. She didn't seem disheartened, though, but stood and brushed herself off, then offered her opponent a hand up.

The skins' possession of the ball didn't last for long. Soon the shirts had it back and had taken a solid lead, and it was a beautifully smooth pass from Haldane to Keller that led to the scoring of the next point. While the boys celebrated, Haldane jogged back up the hill to rejoin the spectators.

"I think that's enough for now," she said, only slightly out of breath. The others stared at her in awe.

"That," said Leckie, "was amazing."

"Oh, it's just a matter of practice," Haldane said. "And not being afraid to get dirty." She was covered in mud, forearms and shins caked with it, her seersucker dress so stained with soil and grass that it looked like it was camouflage-patterned. Eddie'd never seen her look so happy.

"I can teach you how to play, if you like," she said. "If you ever feel like doing more than just sitting here watching the boys have all the fun."

Hoosier and Mary-Ella looked appalled, but Leckie's expression turned thoughtful.

"It's a possibility," she said.

"How about you, Eddie?" Haldane asked.

"Ah, I don't think so, ma'am," Eddie said. "I'm no good at sports."

"No?" Haldane said, brushing off some of the dirt and sitting back down next to her. "You work with cars all day, so I assume you must be pretty strong, and you could throw some great passes with those long arms of yours." She patted Eddie's shoulder. "I could make a football player out of you, no problem."

"God help us all," Eddie said. She gave Haldane a curious look. "You sure you should even be here, ma'am? Puller didn't rag on you too hard for fraternisin' with the enlisted?"

Major Puller was the highest-ranking female officer in Camp Pendleton. The girls called her 'Chesty', although never to her face - a reference to her formidable bosom, and her even more formidable set of lungs. Chesty rarely lost her cool, but when she did, you could hear her three counties away. 

Eddie had been mortified when Puller had caught them the night before - not at being seen attempting to dance (although that was certainly enough to make her want to crawl into a hole and never come out), but because she could've done the right thing and stopped it at any time, and instead she'd got Haldane in trouble. She was astonished that Haldane even still wanted to talk to her, let alone that she was actually allowed.

But Haldane's only response was to laugh and roll her eyes. "Oh, don't worry about that. I've promised Chesty I'll be strictly GI during the day, but thankfully, I'm still permitted the occasional friendly conversation with the enlisted when off-duty. Just no dancing with sergeants. Apparently it undermines my authority."

"It'd be hard to undermine _your_ authority. Going by the way you were charging around that field, you could kick most of our asses from one end of the camp and back without breaking a sweat."

"I think that may be one of the strangest compliments I've ever received," Haldane said. "Although I won't deny I'm flattered."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm about as good at picking my words as I am at sport."

Haldane looked rather sad, and ran her hand down along Eddie's arm. "You shouldn't do yourself down so much."

Eddie laughed to cover the sudden rush of butterflies in her stomach. "I'm just being honest. Not saying I'm good for nothing - what I don't know about cars or guitars ain't worth knowing, even if I say so myself. It's just everything else that's the trouble."

"Guitars?" Haldane said. "You're a musician?"

"Oh, yeah. Semi-professionally."

Haldane looked fascinated. "What sort of music? Like that gospel kind of stuff you were playing us last night?"

"Well, a little of that, and sometimes the blues, but mostly, mountain music, the stuff I grew up with."

"I'd love to hear it."

"You will, ma'am, I practice most evenings. Just walk past our barracks round about half eight, I'm usually outside on the step picking out a few tunes."

"I'll keep it in mind," Haldane said. "I wish I was musical. My mother tried to make me learn the piano when I was young, but I couldn't stick with it. Following two lines of music at once made my head hurt. Not to mention my fingers."

"I learned to play by ear," Eddie said. "Knowing the names of notes and things is handy, 'specially when you're playing with other people, but the most important thing is just knowing the sounds and what shapes go with 'em."

"It still sounds quite complicated."

"Complicated? Once you get the hang of it, it's no harder than singing. As long as you've got fingers, you can play."

Haldane nodded thoughtfully. "Sergeant, how's this for an offer - if I let you teach me how to play the guitar, will you come along and let me teach you how to play football? All strictly during off-duty hours and keeping a respectable distance, of course."

Eddie grinned ear to ear. "Ma'am, you've got yourself a deal." They shook on it.

 

"Alright, ladies, listen up!"

Eddie was pleasantly surprised by the numbers that had turned out to the first football practice. She could only assume that like her, nobody could bear the thought of disappointing Haldane, because there was no way that many women in camp were interested in football. Not everybody was there as a participant - a small group had already gathered on the hill to watch, and Hoosier had even brought popcorn - but most of the officers and NCOs were present, and a good proportion of the enlisted. Even Gibson was there, though she looked like she was already regretting it.

Everyone was talking, shouting over one another to be heard, but when Haldane called for attention, they immediately fell silent.

"Thank you," she said. "Now, hands up if you've ever played football before."

Out of the entire group, only two hands went up. One of them was Haldane's.

"Well, that's more than I was expecting," she said. She pointed at Leckie, the other person who'd raised their hand. "Leckie, how much do you know about the game?"

"About as much as the average fan, ma'am. I've been going to games since I was a kid."

"Yeah? Which team do you follow?"

"New York Giants."

Haldane laughed. "Oh, bad luck. They've not been having a good time of it lately."

"Be fair, ma'am, our best men are away at war - and now we've got Bill Paschal leading the pack, I reckon things are gonna turn around pretty soon."

"Don't count your chickens, Private," Haldane said. She suddenly noticed the blank looks they were getting from everyone else, and hastily tried to pull the topic back round to something more relevant. "Anyway, you said you'd played before. In a team?"

"No, just goofing around in the park with my brothers," Leckie said. "Who never wasted any opportunity to stomp my head into the dirt."

"Well, that comes with the territory," Haldane nodded. "Sorry to say, everybody, but this is a contact sport: you _will_ get dirty, and most likely cut and bruised as well. But I promise you now, stick with it, and you'll find it a whole lot of fun."

Eddie thoroughly doubted that. Haldane's enthusiasm was infectious, but she just couldn't see this ragtag bunch of girls ever making for much of a team.

"Now, let's start with the basics," Haldane said. "Sorry to anyone who knows this stuff, but I'm going to presume that everyone here is a complete beginner." She knelt down and picked up the ball at her feet, holding it up to show the crowd. "This is the ball. It's got a round bit and two pointy bits, which makes it easy to throw, but surprisingly tricky to kick. The object of the game is to try to get the ball into the other team's end zone, as marked out by the lines at each end of the field. Everybody starts out in the middle, and one team tries to move the ball forwards by running with it or passing to one another, until they get far enough ahead for someone to run with the ball into the end zone, or throw it to someone waiting there, or make a kick for goal. The other team, meanwhile, tries their darnedest to stop them."

Someone put their hand up.

"Yes, Conley?"

"You said one team moving the ball forward, ma'am," Runner said. "Why not both?"

"Good question!" Haldane said. "Football is a highly tactical game. It's not like basketball or soccer, where play continues after the other team has taken possession of the ball. In football, all the action takes place in short, sharp bursts, and both teams stop to decide on their tactics before the next period of activity. Later on, once we're sure of the basics, I'll start explaining the different positions and the roles they play in the team. But I don't want to throw too much at you at once, so for now we'll start with some basic kicks and passes."

Haldane went on to demonstrate some of these, with help from Leckie, and then told the girls to pair up, grab a ball, and get practicing. Eddie and Burgin glanced at one another, nodded, and headed downfield together.

"Did you get any of that?" Burgin said. "'Cause I sure didn't."

"Well, this is a ball. It's got a round bit and two pointy bits... and that's about all I got," Eddie said. "Still, how hard can throwing a ball be?" She moved back a few yards and threw a high pass, which Burgin caught fairly easily. Burgin tossed it back, the ball sailing smoothly through the air into Eddie's hands.

"Not hard at all!" Burgin said, seconds before another ball thudded into her stomach and sent her stumbling backwards. "Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry!" Sledge called, running to collect the ball. "I'm sorry, I was aiming for De L'Eau. It just sorta spun out of control." She picked up the ball and let out a small, sad sigh. "This looked a whole lot easier when Lieutenant Haldane was doing it."

"C'mon, Sledge, have another go, and let's see what's going wrong," Eddie said. "De L'Eau, you get ready to catch. Burgie, uh, just get out the way."

"Don't need to tell me twice!" Burgin said, moving well away.

Sledge threw the ball. This time it went too low and hit the ground end-on, bouncing off to the side.

"Oh god, I can't even throw a ball right." Sledge buried her face in her hands, while De L'Eau shrugged and went off to retrieve it.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Eddie rubbed Sledge's shoulder. "You're new to this. I bet Haldane didn't know what she was doing when she started, neither." De L'Eau walked back up to them, giving the ball to Eddie. "Thanks, Jane. Now, c'mon, Sledge, think of it this way - you know how to shoot a rifle, right?"

"Sure, but -"

"Then you know all about how you've got to get the angle right to hit your target. Just go for a nice short throw, and look where you're pointing the end. I think that's the key to it."

Sledge took the ball from Eddie's hands, and had another go. This time she kept her breathing steady and took care to in choosing an angle, throwing forward as she exhaled. It was a pretty weak throw, and the ball didn't go far, but it flew smoothly and De L'Eau caught it neatly with both hands.

"That's it, Sledge, you're doing really well!" Haldane called, jogging past. "And that was really good advice, Jones. I told you you'd be a natural at this." She slowed her pace, coming closer. "Still up for the other half of the deal?"

"Of course, ma'am," Eddie nodded. "Swing by my hut this evening and I'll see what I can do."

"Looking forward to it already," Haldane said, and moved on by.

Eddie turned back to Burgin, who smirked and waggled her eyebrows. She opened her mouth to say something, but Eddie brandished the ball menacingly.

"Not a word," she said, "or I'll start aiming for your head."

 

When evening came, Eddie was outside on the stoop of the barrack hut as promised, idly picking her way through a variation on The Gallows Pole. Haldane was nowhere to be seen, but Eddie didn't mind. She didn't mind anything much when she was playing. Still, she couldn't deny her heart gave a gleeful leap when Haldane finally came into view.

"Evening, ma'am," she said, greeting her with a casual salute that would have earned her a reprimand from anyone else. Haldane returned it with an equal lack of precision, and came to sit down beside her. There was a moment of uncomfortable, expectant silence.

"So, uh -" Eddie's palms had suddenly gone all sweaty. "Where d'you wanna start?"

"You tell me," Haldane said. "I don't know the first thing about guitars."

"Okay," Eddie said, taking a moment to calm herself. "Jeez, ma'am, it's been so long since I learned, I can barely remember how I did it."

Haldane held up a hand. "I've already told you, you don't have to call me ma'am." She glanced around, just in case Puller was waiting to spring from behind a hut and drag her away for another lecture on the officer-enlisted divide. "At least, not when we're not on duty. It's hard to have a conversation when one of you's constantly doing the verbal equivalent of a curtsey."

"It'll be a hard habit to break, ma' - gah." Eddie stopped and tried again. "It'll be a hard habit to break, but I'll give it a try." Haldane - _Andrea_ \- laughed behind her hand. Eddie nervously pushed her hair out of her eyes, and took hold of the guitar.

"Right then, let's get going. Take a look at these strings. There's six of 'em - E, A, D, G, B and E, running from low to high." She picked each one of them as she named it, letting the notes ring out. "You don't have to know their names to know how to play them, but it doesn't hurt to get used to calling them the right thing. My Pa taught me one of them - memonics? Emomics? One of them acronym thingies, to help me remember: Eddie Ate Dynamite, Good Bye Eddie."

Andrea laughed. "Oh, that's cruel."

"Yeah, but I remembered it," Eddie said. "And it reminded me to not go chewing on explosives, neither. Now go on, name the strings for me."

"E, A, D, G, B and E."

"And play me a B?"

Andrea reached out and plucked the second string.

"See, there ya go!" Eddie said. "Now, there's two ways to play a guitar. One way is by picking at the strings individually, and the other is by playing chords. Most folks start off learning chords; once you know a few chords, you can play along with all kinds of songs, and knowing your chords well gives you a clue as to which notes sound good together when you're picking."

She handed the guitar to Andrea.

"Settle it down on your lap, and strike the strings with the backs of your nails, the way you've seen me do."

Andrea had a go. She came down too hard, making the strings twang, but the note came through well enough.

"That's an E minor. Sounds like a funny chord to have the strings tuned to, but it makes finding the other chords easier. Now, put your fingers like this -" Eddie reached over and took Andrea's left hand, carefully putting her fingers in position on the frets. "And strum again?" The note rang out, slightly flat, but clear.

"That's a G, and that's one of the chords you'll be using most often. Now, if you do this -" She moved Andrea's hand again. Andrea strummed. "That's a C! And one more -" She rearranged Andrea's fingers one more time. "That's D. You got that?"

"I think so," Andrea said doubtfully, looking down at her hands.

"Right then, show me a G." Andrea took some time moving her fingers into place, but she managed to get the note out. "And C? And now D again."

Andrea followed and then repeated the sequence, the notes coming through stronger as she became more used to the way she had to hold the strings down against the frets.

"And there you are!" Eddie applauded. "You already know three chords, how's that for learning?"

"So, now what?" Andrea said.

"Now you've got to put 'em together!" Eddie said. "Could you pass me the guitar back for a moment?"

She took the guitar and started to play, strumming out a very basic tune with the three chords and starting to sing along. " _Oh when the saints, go marching in, oh when the saints go marching in, I want to be among that number, when the saints go marching in._ " She held the guitar out to Andrea. "Now you try!"

Andrea looked unsure.

"C'mon, if a dumb hick like me can do it, you sure can."

Andrea took the guitar, carefully arranged her fingers on the fretboard, and started to play. Eddie quietly sang along, and that helped Andrea keep to the rhythm, if not always to find the right note.

"See, there you go, you're getting it already," Eddie said, patting Andrea on the back. "I get the feeling there ain't much you ain't naturally good at."

Andrea laughed. "Oh, please, that was terrible. You make it look far easier than it really is."

"Music takes practice, that's all. You made chucking that ball around the field look easy, too, and it sure wasn't for the rest of us." Eddie took the guitar back. She affectionately ran her hand along its side. "I've been playing this ol' thing since I was a li'l kid with my hair in pigtails. The house was always so crowded, and there was never any privacy, but if I could just find somewhere to sit and play, I could forget about everything else. When I'm playing, I ain't got a care in the world; it's just me and my girl."

"Your girl?" Andrea frowned.

"Guitars are like battleships, they're always ladies." She held it up, showing Andrea. "See, she's even got curves like a woman."

"Which is more than can be said for the average battle cruiser."

"I don't know, there's some pretty hefty women out there."

Andrea giggled.

"I love your dry sense of humour," she said. She reached for the guitar. "Let me try that again."

She began strumming again, humming to herself; she played the chords in a different order, and realised she'd got the start of Swing Low Sweet Chariot. "You know, I think I'm starting to get it."

"Didn't I say? A few more lessons, and we'll soon have you playing like Lead Belly."

"Like who?"

"Oh, we have got to work on your musical knowledge," Eddie said. "There's a whole wide world of music out there besides show tunes and swing bands. Not that I got anything against either, but I like music that tells a story."

"Show tunes tell stories," Andrea said. "That's the whole idea."

"Okay, fair point," Eddie said, "But musicals, they're just entertainment. Sure, sometimes that's all you want, but sometimes a soul needs more than just 'la la la, I love this guy but he don't love me, now we're gonna sing at each other for an hour and a half until we get a clue'." Andrea started laughing behind her hand, but Eddie wasn't disheartened. She was on a roll here. "And there are other songs, right, that can make people laugh, or make 'em cry, or teach 'em a lesson, or have 'em feeling the Holy Spirit right there in the room. I've seen it: men and women who don't look like anything much can get up on stage and have every eye watching them, every heart feeling the same things they're feeling. It's a heck of a trick."

Andrea wasn't laughing any more. Slowly, gently, she took the guitar and gave it back to Eddie.

"Play me something. Anything you like."

Eddie let out a nervous giggle. "Aw, dammit. I'm gonna have a job living up to that little speech." But her hands were steady as she settled them on the strings; she took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind, waiting for inspiration to strike. Her mind was a total blank for a moment or two, and then she got it.

" _It was down at Old Joe's barroom_ ," she started, fingers playing lightly across the strings, " _On the corner of the square_ -"

It was an old, old song that Eddie had heard played on many occasions, from bluesmen and folk singers alike, and rarely the same way twice. She'd never played it in front of anyone before - it was a song best sung low and ragged, not suited to her thin, sharp voice - but for her captive audience of one, she poured every ounce of emotion she could into her performance.

Andrea watched, silent and fascinated, and then suddenly smiled widely in recognition when Eddie reached the verse starting ' _I went down to St. James Infirmary_ '. She waited a line or two, and then began to sing along. She had a pretty good voice, a husky contralto that suited the tune perfectly, and Eddie let her take the melody so she could focus on her playing, adding a few harmonised 'oohs' and 'aah's here and there. They grew louder as they grew more confident, Eddie's picking becoming increasingly complex, Andrea improvising and scatting through the lines she couldn't remember, the guitar line and their voices flowing together -

They got so carried away that it had to have been a good minute or so before Eddie realised there was a third voice accompanying them. She stopped abruptly, looking back over her shoulder to see Mary-Ella leaning out of the window.

"Why'd you stop?" she said, pouting. "I was enjoyin' that."

Andrea startled, though so briefly that only Eddie would have noticed. She looked round and up at Mary-Ella.

"Well, why not come out and join us?" she said. "Bring the others, too; we'll make it a party."

Eddie would have preferred to keep it a private lesson, but she could hardly object. A small group emerged from the hut and stood or sat down around them, giving Eddie an expectant look.

Andrea smiled. "Alright, Jones, enough with the blues. Let's give 'em something rousing."

"Right you are, ma'am!" Eddie cracked her knuckles, put her fingers to the strings again, and started up with an old fail-safe. " _Buffalo gals, won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight - buffalo gals, won't you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon._ "

It was an old square-dancing tune, best played loud and fast and with as much energy as you could muster; some of the girls' faces lit up with instant recognition, and those who didn't know it soon picked up the simple structure of the lyrics. A couple even attempted to dance, though it didn't really work with only two people. 

From there on in, it was a regular shindig. Everyone had a request to make, and that led to a real mixed bag - popular songs and traditional tunes, a hymn or two and a few of Eddie's own selections. They were just in the midst of a rendition of Battle Hymn of the Republic so enthusiastic it verged on the bloodcurdling when everyone suddenly stopped short.

Eddie sang alone for a line or two, slightly off-key, tailing off awkwardly as she looked round to see what had happened and met the disapproving glare of Captain Jameson.

"What's all this?" she said, standing with her hands on her hips and a look on her face like a hog eating a lemon.

"Oh, just a good old-fashioned singalong," Andrea said. "Nothing to object to in that, is there?"

"Except the fact it's five minutes from curfew," Jameson pointed out.

Andrea looked at her watch. "Good lord, is that the time?" She jumped to her feet. "Alright, everybody, pack it up and get yourselves to bed, fast as you can." She looked down at Eddie. "I'm sorry about that, I should have realised it was getting late."

"Nothing to apologise for, ma'am," Eddie replied.

"We'll see about that," Jameson said, giving them both a deeply suspicious look. "You're lucky I came by when I did. Are you coming, Haldane?"

Andrea nodded.

"Yes, I suppose I'd better." She straightened up and saluted. "G'night, girls."

"Night, lieutenant!" everybody chorussed, and went to make their way back inside.

Eddie was the last to go, still packing away her guitar as Andrea and Jameson began to walk away. She wasn't deliberately trying to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help but hear some of their conversation.

"- really shouldn't spend so much time with the enlisted," she heard Jameson mutter, and that part of Andrea's reply was,

"Some of them are good friends of mine."

Jameson's response to that was too quiet and low for her to make much out, but she did very distinctly hear, "Well, I don't know what you see in her."

Andrea briefly glanced back over her shoulder, looking back at Eddie while Jameson was still grumbling on. Eddie should have probably nodded, or waved, or - well, done _anything_ , really - but as it was, she felt rather guilty at being caught listening. She grabbed her guitar case and darted inside, heart racing like a runaway train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical bonus! There's a great deal of songs referenced in this particular chapter, all of 'em personal favourites, but if you listen to any of them, listen to St. James Infirmary Blues, the one Andrea and Eddie sing together. Andrea would probably be most familiar with it as sung by [Louis Armstrong](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QzcpUdBw7gs), but Eddie's arrangement owes more to [Josh White](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nx_9DYpQX_Q). (Alternatively, if you like visuals with your music, and you like your visuals weird, I give you [this performance by a rotoscoped Cab Calloway](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBk3jwNSteo) in a somewhat unsettling Betty Boop cartoon.)


	4. Jean's Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean Basilone gets married, and where there's a wedding, there's inevitably drinking, dancing, and drama.

"Oh, come on, Eddie - it's tradition!"

With great reluctance, Eddie let Manuela drag her into the crowd of women waiting for Jean to toss the bouquet.

She had to concede, it had been a lovely wedding. The church had been crammed past capacity with Basilones and Riggis and Marines of both sexes, everyone looking marvellous in their best suits and dress uniforms. With the sun beating down, it had been stiflingly hot (the humidity had ruined Eddie's hair, after she'd spent the best part of half an hour that morning trying to pin it down into something approximating respectability), but the priest had sensed everyone's discomfort and wisely kept the ceremony short and sweet. Jean had looked like a million dollars in her wedding gown, and Len - who usually was a little gawky and plain - had looked so fine in his uniform and so glowing with pride that Eddie had been close to reconsidering her sexuality.

Only close, though. Len might have looked terribly dapper, but he couldn't hold a candle to Andrea Haldane. Her dress uniform fit her like a glove, skimming elegantly over every curve, and her hair and make-up were as immaculate as ever. But for the bruises on her shins that her sheer stockings couldn't quite conceal, she looked like she'd stepped out of a recruitment poster. Eddie had been thoroughly put out when her view of her in the church was mostly blocked by an elderly Riggi's ostentatious hat; still, the glimpse of hands and knees that she had been able to see had been thoroughly distracting in themselves.

Now the formalities were over and the guests were all milling around outside, lining up for photographs and waiting for the cars that'd take them to the hall where the reception was being held. Jean was standing on the church steps, one hand on her veil to stop it blowing away in the breeze, bouquet clutched in the other, waiting for the jostling crowd of women to settle down.

"Is everyone ready?" she called.

"Just throw it already!" JP yelled.

Jean turned her back and tossed the flowers over her shoulder. The bouquet sailed through the air, past the grasping hands of some of the more enthusiastic members of the crowd, and hit Eddie square in the forehead, knocking her hat off. The flowers fell by her feet, whereupon several people dived simultaneously and an undignified scuffle commenced.

She felt a tap on her arm, and saw Andrea holding her hat. She smiled, taking it from her.

"Thank you, ma'am." JP and Manuela rolled past them, still scrapping over the bouquet. Eddie laughed. "I'm beginning to think you should never have taught 'em how to tackle."

Andrea held up her hands. "I only showed them how to play a game, I can't be blamed for any unladylike behaviour off the field. Anyway, technically, it was you who caught the bouquet."

"I didn't catch it, it hit me in the face!"

Andrea shrugged. "Well, love can do that. Who knows? Maybe it means you're about to meet a man who'll sweep you off your feet. Or at least knock your hat off."

"I doubt it," Eddie said. Andrea looked like she was about to say something in response, but stopped when she heard the sound of the first car pulling up by the roadside.

"Ah, I think that's our ride," she said. "Catch you later, Eddie."

Andrea walked off to rejoin the other officers, while Jean waded in to separate the still frantically wrestling JP and Manny. Eddie put her hat back on, and pretended she didn't feel a ridiculous little tingle of excitement run through her at the thought that Andrea had been holding it just a moment before.

 

Several hours later, and the party was in full swing. The hall wasn't exactly fancy, but the band were playing up a storm, and the buffet could've fed the whole camp for a week. The dancefloor was filled with couples, young ones spinning each other around the room and the older ones swaying more sedately, but one person was conspicuous by her absence.

Jean Riggi (that was gonna take some getting used to) was sitting outside with Eddie, working her way through a pack of Lucky Strikes at a furious pace. The breeze had died down to nothing, and the smoke drifted around her head like a second layer to her veil.

"I had to get out of there," she said, taking another hard drag. "Don't get me wrong, I'm having a wonderful time, but I haven't had a moment's peace all day."

"Yeah, that's weddings for you," Eddie said. "Sometimes I think they're for everyone but the couple."

Jean nodded. "If I'd had my way, Len and I would've just eloped and that'd be that. The war kinda gets in the way, though."

"Wars can be real inconvenient like that."

Jean's scowl softened. "I guess we've got the rest of our lives to make up for hardly having had a chance to talk to each other today."

"Like later on tonight, for a start," Eddie said, nudging Jean with her elbow.

"I should be so lucky. I'm so dead beat I'll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow," Jean said. She flicked away the stub of her cigarette and pushed herself to her feet, wincing as she rebalanced on her tall heels. "Oh, Jesus - never get married, Eddie. It's hell on your feet."

"Duly noted. If I get married, I'm wearin' boots."

"Yeah, you would as well," Jean laughed. She stood looking down at Eddie, waiting for her to move. "C'mon, come back inside with me. I'm not letting you sit out here avoiding everyone all night."

"Fine, but I ain't dancing," Eddie said. She followed Jean back into the hall, avoiding the crowd and sidling towards the buffet table.

"Mind if I join you over here in wallflower corner?" she said, greeting Burgin.

"I'm not being a wallflower, I'm enjoying this cake before it's all gone," Burgin said. "Seriously, you have _got_ to try some of this. Mrs Basilone is a genius."

"They must've been saving up their rations for months to get all of this," Eddie said, leaning forward to cut herself a slice of cake.

"Or it conveniently all fell off the back of a delivery truck," Burgin said. Eddie gave her a disapproving look. Burgin shrugged.

"Hey, I'm not saying it _did_. I'm just not saying it didn't, neither. Anyway, I wouldn't care if they'd robbed an orphanage to get it, not when it tastes as good as this."

"Just don't go starting any arguments, Burgie," Eddie said. She nibbled at the slice of cake, eyes slipping closed as she was overwhelmed by a rich flavour of fruit, spice, and a very generous dose of rum. "Oh, damn, that _is_ good."

"Didn't I say so? I think I've got most of the recipe worked out - there's candied peel, and a smidge of nutmeg, and -" Burgin took another bite. "- hmm, maybe a little walnut as well. I'm gonna have to have more to get it all right, though." She went to cut herself another slice. As she did, though, a hand came down on her shoulder. She looked round to see one of the drill sergeants smiling at her.

"Mind if I have the next dance?" he said.

Burgin looked at him, then at the cake in her hand. She hesitated for slightly longer than was strictly polite before finally shrugging and saying,

"Oh, hey, what the heck." She poked Eddie in the chest. "You. Guard this cake with your life."

"I'll defend it to the last man," Eddie replied. "Go on, get outta here."

Burgin smiled, took her companion's arm, and strolled away, leaving Eddie by herself again.

She stood and nibbled diffidently at her own piece of cake, watching the various couples on the dancefloor. Jean and Len had found each other, and were foxtrotting smartly across the floor; Jean was by far the better dancer, and Len often stumbled over his feet and had to pause to get back into the rhythm, but they were clearly both enjoying themselves, going by the way they were grinning at each other like they couldn't believe their luck.

JP and Manuela were having a hell of a time, flirting outrageously with every man in the room and squabbling over who got which partner next. Chuckler and Runner were both dancing like someone had set their shoes on fire: Runner squealed as her much taller partner lifted her and spun her around his shoulders, Chuckler hooting with laughter as she saw her, inadvertently stepping on her own partner's feet in the process. Maybe Eddie was reading too much into it, but they seemed to be spending more time looking at each other than either of the men they were with.

Leckie was lurking by the bar, shooting envious glances at Lieutenant Keller and the woman he was currently with (one of Jean's sisters, by Eddie's guess), and Sledge was sat nearby, methodically working her way through a massive ice-cream sundae while fending off Mary-Ella's attempts to steal some for herself.

Andrea, of course, was dancing, and she had no shortage of partners. She was with a different man for every song, giving everyone who asked a fair turn regardless of age or rank. Papa Basilone looked like he was about to die of happiness when she let him take her for a spin through In The Mood.

Eddie just wished she had the courage to ask for a dance herself. No doubt Andrea wouldn't turn her down if asked - but even though women could get away with dancing with each other (Corrigan and Stone were currently attempting the Charleston, with limited success), there'd be watching eyes and things muttered under people's breaths, and she'd be too nervous to do a goddamn thing.

No, if she ever danced with Andrea again, it'd have to be some other time and place. Some imaginary, impossible place, where it'd only be them and the band. Andrea would be wearing a long red gown, and Eddie... well, she never felt comfortable in dresses, and on her skinny bones they looked like they were dangling off a clothes-hanger, so it'd have to be something else. A nicely tailored tux, perhaps, like the kind Marlene Dietrich sometimes wore.

They'd be like Fred and Ginger, in some huge and empty ballroom - never mind that Eddie had two left feet; it was her fantasy, after all - and they'd move light as feathers across the polished floor. When the song came to an end, Andrea'd be all flushed and gasping from having danced so fast, and her hair'd be coming loose from its pins. Eddie would reach out and gently tuck the stray strands behind her ear, just as the band started up with As Time Goes By. And then Andrea would move close, resting her head against Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie would stroke her cheek and tilt her face up towards her, and as the music swelled to a crescendo their lips would meet -

Andrea's current dance partner seemed to be having similar ideas. Eddie had seen him around before, though she didn't know him personally - one of the senior officers, a veteran of the last war. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, middle-aged but still fit. Handsome, probably. The song was a slow one and he kept moving close, despite Andrea's attempts to maintain a respectable distance. The hand he had resting on Andrea's back crept lower and lower.

The officer leaned down and murmured something into Andrea's ear. She laughed, but her movements seemed stiff, and there was a certain tension in the man's arms that suggested he was holding her in place with some force. He moved his face near, and she turned her head away; he kissed her neck, and then lunged again.

Eddie's stomach clenched like a fist. Before she even realised she was doing it, she was striding into the crowd.

"Can't you take a hint?" Eddie said, her voice cutting sharply through the soft music. "She don't want to kiss you."

The man barely glanced at her. "Mind your own business."

"This is my business." Eddie pushed herself in between the officer and Andrea. "Move along, buster." She felt a hand grasp her arm. She swivelled round to look at Andrea, red-faced and furious.

"No, Eddie. This is _not_ your business." She turned and walked swiftly out of the hall, face pinched and tight as if she was trying very hard not to show any emotion.

The officer smirked. "Told you."

Eddie bit her lips against the oaths she wanted to say, and ran off, catching sight of Andrea outside and following her as she went around a corner.

"Andrea!"

"Sergeant Jones, I do not wish to talk to you." Andrea wasn't crying, but she was breathing deliberately slow and steady, and she kept her back turned.

Eddie looked at her feet. "Lieutenant Haldane. Ma'am. I'm sorry if I got the wrong impression. I was certain that man was trying to take advantage of you."

" _That man_ is Major Hawkins, whom you have no right to speak to in that manner. And I am both a grown woman and a senior officer. Please remember in future that I am perfectly capable of handling my own affairs."

There were all sorts of things Eddie could've said, but she knew better than to give voice to any of them.

"Yes ma'am," she said, and trudged back into the hall.

 

The event cast something of a pall over the rest of the evening. Eddie did her best to put on a brave face and pretend nothing had happened, but inside she felt nauseous with guilt. She wasn't the only person who wasn't feeling quite right. Gibson was in floods of tears from homesickness and too much wine. Snafu and Leyden were both sulking after a brief, bitter argument involving the last serving of tiramisu. Sledge was sat very still and clutching her stomach, looking like she rather regretted having had all of that ice-cream.

Eddie found Stone lurking around what remained of the buffet, talking to Corrigan.

"We'd best round 'em up and get 'em home before it gets completely out of hand," Corrigan was saying. "There's gonna be a lot of hangovers, and a lot of VD cases, and I wouldn't mind calling an end to this before there's an arrest."

"Ah, it'll be fine," Stone said. "It's only high spirits, that's all. They're kids, what d'you expect?"

"They're _Marines_. They really should know better." Corrigan sighed. She saw Eddie approaching, nodding a greeting.

"And how's it going with you, Edna?"

"Same as it is with you, by the sounds of it. I just had to pull Shelton and Smith away from each other again - scrapping like cats. We should never have had an open bar."

"Yeah, and I bet you anything we'll be picking up the tab," Stone said. "Oh, watch out - here comes the wicked witch."

Jameson was coming their way, looking thoroughly put out. She barged past them and made a grab for the food. Even from a distance of some yards, Eddie could smell the alcohol on her.

"Hey, you alright?" Corrigan said.

"This is getting goddamn ridiculous," Jameson grumbled, fumbling at the knife as she tried to cut herself a slice of cake.

"We were just saying the same thing," Corrigan nodded. "We'll get our own back tomorrow. An early-morning run ought to clear those foggy heads."

"You're a cruel woman, Lieutenant," Eddie said, laughing.

Jameson shook her head. "Won't be enough." She turned around to face them. Eddie wouldn't have believed it possible to eat cake in a vindictive manner, but Jameson managed it. "Too far gone for that."

Stone frowned. "What do you mean, ma'am?"

"Look at them all," Jameson said, eyes narrowing. Eddie followed her eyeline, but couldn't work out who she meant by 'them' - all she saw was people dancing, talking and drinking. Runner was trying to drink out of a pint glass balanced on Chuckler's head, and Leckie was very badly flirting with a member of the band who seemed mostly concerned with trying to stop her from fondling his trombone, but nothing bad was happening at this particular moment.

"Nothing but a bunch of smartasses, drunks and sluts," Jameson said. "We shoulda been tougher on them from the start."

"I'm not sure I catch your drift, ma'am," Stone said.

"A military camp is a potential breeding ground for sedition. All it takes is one bad apple and the whole barrel turns rotten."

"Sedition?" Corrigan said.

"Laziness. Defeatism. Promiscuity. Homosexuality."

Corrigan raised her eyebrows.

"What, you don't think it's possible? It's exactly that kind of attitude which lets them get away with it," Jameson said. "The armed forces are a magnet for women with... unnatural tendencies. There's probably at least one in this very room."

Eddie inadvertently let out a small, startled squeak, which was thankfully covered by the strangled noises Corrigan and Stone made as they struggled not to burst out laughing.

"No offence, ma'am," Eddie said, taking care to keep her tone even and measured, "But have you been drinking?"

Jameson peered up at her, beady-eyed, and poked a finger against her sternum. "Careful, Jones. I've got my eye on you." She finished her cake and strode away, heading straight for the bar. Corrigan let out a long, low whistle. Stone slowly shook her head.

"Unbelievable," Stone said.

"You were talking about betting?" Corrigan said. "I'm laying down a dollar now saying that that woman's on her way to a nervous breakdown."

Stone smirked. "Here's hoping."

 

After that strange encounter, Eddie desperately needed a cigarette. She finished her first in a matter of minutes and immediately lit up another, and what had been intended as a short trip outside turned into half an hour spent loitering around the back of the hall, staring up at the night sky.

She'd always felt somewhat ambivalent about weddings. It was nice to get the family together, and she was always happy for the couple, but seeing other people find partners and settle down made her wonder what she was going to do about herself. The war had given her a year or two's reprieve from having to make a decision, but one day it would be over, and then what would she do? Go back home and marry Chuck? Once upon a time she might've resigned herself to that and considered it getting off lightly, but now she'd seen the world beyond the hills, she couldn't spend the rest of her life somewhere so small and isolated.

Maybe she could move to the city, where she'd be more likely to be able to make a living, but for all that the recruitment booklets talked up the skills you'd learn as a Marine, she couldn't imagine there'd be much demand in peacetime for a lady mechanic. Maybe, then, she could stay in the Corps - but again, why would they keep women around, once the men had come back home?

Most likely she'd just end up some old maid with a hundred cats, who'd spend her days sitting on her porch playing her guitar, knocking back moonshine, and cussing at the local kids. When Eddie got to thinking of outcomes like that, she almost didn't want the war to end.

She was so deep in thought, she had one hell of a shock when she felt someone touch her shoulder.

"Holy f-" She bit back the curse just in time. "Lieutenant Haldane, ma'am! You scared me half to death."

Andrea smiled softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump. I just came to apologise for how I spoke to you earlier."

"You don't have to," Eddie said. "You were right, I was way out of line."

"Your heart was in the right place, though. I feel rotten for having snapped at you like that." Andrea beckoned. "Come and sit down with me."

Eddie joined her on a low wall that ran along the side of the parking lot. Her previous calm had gone completely; she lit another cigarette. Her throat was getting sore, but it was a small price to pay.

"Did Major Hawkins give you any more trouble?"

Andrea shook his head. "He wasn't happy, but I managed to smooth things over and get away with my dignity intact. Of course, he went slinking back to his pals to tell them all I was frigid, but I can't say I feel I'm missing out on anything there."

"You'd think a major would have better manners," Eddie said.

"Maybe you might. I try not to expect too much of anyone."

"Really?" Eddie said. "I always thought you saw the best in everybody."

Andrea sighed, taking off her hat in order to push a hand back through her hair. "The thing is, that sort of thing happens to me _all the time_. I wish I could just tell men exactly what I thought of them, but I'm not as brave as you."

"Nah, you're just smart," Eddie said. "Loudmouth broads like me don't earn themselves any favours."

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

"Life just ain't fair sometimes," Eddie said.

She reached out and tentatively placed a hand on Andrea's back, rubbing slow circles across her shoulderblades. Andrea was still at first and then leaned into it, the tension slowly easing from her muscles.

"What do you think you'll do, after the war?" she said.

"I was just wonderin' that myself," Eddie said. "I ain't made any plans. How about you?"

"I don't know. I love my job. I was thinking I might stay, if they let me." She shrugged. "But when I get married, I'll have to give it all up."

"When you get married? There some secret beau of yours you ain't been telling us about?"

Andrea shook her head. Eddie let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"No, nothing like that. I was just speaking hypothetically," Andrea said. "I'm not getting any younger, and it would be nice to settle down with somebody. I just wish I didn't have to choose between love and my ambitions."

"Who says you have to? Jean ain't leaving the Corps," Eddie said.

"Yes, but she will after the war," Andrea replied. "Anyway, someone has to look after the home and family, and that's a job in itself. Even I don't think I'm persuasive enough to get a man to do it for me."

"You could hire a maid."

"Pass it off on to some other poor woman? That's only pushing it further down the line. We won't win liberty on the backs of others."

"Then I don't know what to suggest to you. Other than just not getting married."

Andrea laughed suddenly. "I know, Eddie, let's run away. Just the two of us. We'll go to the prairies and set up a ranch, and take and leave handsome young farmhands as we please."

"Oh, sure, I can just see you now," Eddie said, a wry smile creeping on to her face, "in a plaid shirt and a ten-gallon hat, and your hair all done up in pigtails."

"Well, naturally," Andrea nodded, "and I never met anyone so obviously born to be a cowgirl as you. You know how to play Home on the Range, right?"

"Of course I do!"

Andrea giggled and moved up closer, leaning against Eddie's side.

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, only a couple of glasses of wine," Andrea said. "Well, three. Maybe four. And I did have a beer with the boys, because Keller insisted. But I'm only tipsy, at worst, and more tired than anything else." She smiled crookedly. "I hope you don't mind me resting my weary head against your shoulder. For such a bony shoulder, it's surprisingly comfy."

"I'm honoured. I think." Eddie decided to risk sliding the arm she had resting on Andrea's back further round. Andrea made a pleased noise and moved closer still.

"I'm so glad we made up," she said, patting Eddie's knee. "You always know how to raise my spirits."

"All part of the service, ma'am."

" _Would_ you run away with me, if we had the chance?" Andrea said quietly.

Eddie squeezed Andrea's shoulder. "In an instant."

Andrea lifted her head. The streetlights had come on, their faint yellow glimmer reflecting in Andrea's eyes. Her breath skimmed softly across Eddie's cheek. Eddie's gaze dropped to Andrea's mouth, her lips slightly parted, and then flicked back up to make eye contact. Her heart raced as Andrea tilted her head slightly to one side -

"Hey, Eddie!" someone called.

Eddie quickly pulled away and twisted around to see Burgin standing at the doorway. "You'd best come quick, it's going crazy in here. Leckie overdid the peach melba and chucked up all over the place, and now I got a bunch of Italian grandmas flapping around all convinced they're about to come down with food poisoning." Burgin squinted through the low light. "Lieutenant Haldane, is that you? I think you'd better come too, ma'am, lot of people could do with calming down."

Andrea rose swiftly. She patted Eddie on the shoulder.

"No rest for the wicked. C'mon."


	5. A Proposition or Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jameson's paranoid behaviour becomes increasingly troubling, Chuckler and Runner are up to no good, and Andrea makes a proposition.

After the excitement of Jean's wedding, life in camp rapidly settled back down to normal. Summer faded into autumn, men came and went, but for most the days were distinguished only by the changing stories that came through on the radio. The Army were sweeping eastwards across Europe. The Marines were taking back great swathes of the south Pacific. There were hitches and set-backs here and there - a failed operation in Holland, heavy losses on some place called Peleliu - but the overall impression was one of relentless forward progress.

For Eddie, life was the same as ever: rising early, working late, maybe taking a little time in the evening to play her guitar or write a few letters home, and football practice twice a week. 

Several months in, the attendance rate was markedly lower, but those who remained were enough to make it worthwhile, and enthusiastic enough that they had switched from a single session at weekends to two during the week. They had moved on from basic manoeuvres to learning the fundamentals of strategy, and from there to playing short, informal games. They still had a long way to go - it'd taken a long time before they'd managed a game which hadn't degenerated within twenty minutes into either total confusion or a massive argument - but things were coming along nicely. 

It was something of a blow, then, when Eddie turned up for practice one morning to find Jameson there.

"Jones! You're late!" Jameson said, by way of greeting.

"Where's And- where's Captain Haldane?" Eddie said, looking around. Andrea had been promoted a few weeks ago; they hadn't had nearly enough time to talk to one another since. 

"Puller needed her urgently. She'll be along soon, but I offered to start the session off. Problem?"

"No, ma'am. I just didn't think you were interested in football."

"Sure I am," Jameson said. "Good, honest, all-American sport. Keeps you all out of trouble, too. Healthy body, clean mind, as my mom always used to say." She narrowed her eyes at Eddie. "Now move it!"

Eddie was not so arrogant as to think that she was being singled out, but Jameson's behaviour had become increasingly worrying over the past few months. All it would take was for her to find one scrap of actual evidence to support her belief that the camp was a hotbed of vice, and somebody could get into serious trouble. Eddie was a little worried that with a lack of any other options, it could well be her.

And that was, she told herself, the only reason she followed Jameson's orders and joined in with the warm-up run around the field.

"What've I missed?" came a voice in her ear just as she started on the second lap. Eddie turned, as best she could while still running, to see Andrea jogging along beside her.

"Where've you been?" Eddie hissed through her teeth.

Andrea shook her head. "Oh, don't ask. Puller had some _very important_ filing or something, and I just _had_ to talk to her about it now. The privileges of rank, I suppose." She gave Eddie a curious look. "Don't tell me you couldn't manage without me for five minutes."

"No, I just - well, why Jameson?"

"Because she offered, and I couldn't think of any good reason for her not to."

"Asides from the fact she's mad?"

"Oh, she's all talk. You've got nothing to fear from her, because you've not done anything wrong."

"You don't know that, ma'am."

"Well, have you?" 

Eddie said nothing. Andrea laughed and punched her on the arm - it hurt rather more than Andrea had probably intended - before running to the head of the group to relieve Jameson from her duties.

To Eddie's dismay, Jameson stuck around for the rest of practice. Giving her a wide berth, she ended up with Leckie and co. - who, like her, were keen to stay unnoticed.

"I don't get it," Runner said, watching as Jameson gleefully tackled Corrigan to the ground. "She's not been to any practices and she's better at this than I am."

"Eh, I don't know," Leckie said, appraising her with a critical eye. "She's just a good jumper, that's all. The question is, why now?"

Chuckler rolled her eyes. "No, the question is, why have you two got your panties in such a bunch over some officer you don't like coming to practice? Jeez." She tossed the ball high in the air and caught it. "I don't know about you, but I can get gossip any place I like. I came here to play some ball. Think fast!" She turned suddenly and flung the ball in Leckie's direction; Leckie flailed, and the ball hit her squarely in the chest.

"Hey!"

Chuckler shrugged. "I told you to think fast."

"Corporal Juergens, that's just not fair play." While they'd been talking, Lieutenant Keller had strolled down the hill and on to the field. He picked up the ball and handed it back to Leckie.

"Thanks, sir," she said, smiling crookedly. "Have you come down to join us? 'Cause I oughta say, sir, I think the idea is that these practices are ladies only, and unless there's something you've been hiding very well - uh, not that you aren't extremely manly, sir, because obviously you -" Leckie stopped. "Can I start again?"

Keller laughed. "Actually, I came to congratulate you. You and Captain Haldane have been fantastic teachers; I'm really impressed with the level of skill on show here. In fact -" His expression turned mischievous. "Me and the guys were just wondering if you'd be brave enough to take us on."

"As in - us, playing a game, against you?" Leckie said.

Keller nodded. "If you think you're good enough."

"Well, I..."

"Oh, we're good enough," Runner butted in.

"Bring it on!" Chuckler shouted.

"Captain Haldane, ma'am?" Leckie called. "Keller just challenged us to a game!"

Andrea sauntered over towards them. She squared up to Keller; they were about the same height.

"A match against your boys?" she said. "I'd love to. Just name a date."

"Well, my current gang are near to shipping out, and I'll need to get a new team together," Keller said, stroking his chin, "and then of course, you'll want time to think about selecting your players. How about some time in the new year?"

"As late as that?" Andrea said. "Well, fair enough, if it's what you'd prefer. Get back to me when you're surer."

"Oh, I will, Captain," Keller said. He held out his hand, and they shook on it.

Eddie had been watching the whole thing. As soon as Keller left, she ran up to Andrea.

"Ma'am, are you absolutely sure about this?" she said, glancing over her shoulder at the group of men sat up on the hill, watching them laughing and nudging each other when Keller came back to tell them the news.

Andrea smiled serenely. "Now, what do I say whenever you ask me if I'm sure?"

Eddie sighed. "That you're always sure."

"Darn right." Andrea smiled widely, and squeezed Eddie's shoulder. "C'mon, it'll be fun. I love a challenge."

Eddie dragged a hand down her face. "God have mercy on us all."

 

If God was planning on being merciful, though, He certainly didn't do it that afternoon. The merest suggestion of competition had got Andrea all fired up, and she worked them extra hard for the rest of the session. By the time they were done, Eddie felt like she'd been put through a mangle.

"I think I'm dying," Eddie groaned, as the group walked back to barracks. Over the course of the past hour, she'd been ran into, pushed over, even trodden on, and she was going to be covered in bruises come tomorrow. "Burgie, fetch a pen and paper. I'm gonna dictate my will."

"Are you still sore because I stopped you from scoring a touchdown?" Andrea said.

"Sore? I'm in agony!" Eddie said. "I'm not leaving _you_ a dime."

"You're not missing out, ma'am," Burgin butted in, "Eddie doesn't own anything other than her guitar and a bunch of books about cowboys."

"Hey, whose side are you on?"

Andrea laughed. "Just give it a moment, and the post-game buzz'll kick in. Personally, I feel fantastic!"

"Makes you sick, don't it?" Burgin said. "No offence, ma'am." She looked as bad as Eddie felt, covered in mud and her hair all over the place. It made Eddie feel a whole lot better knowing she wasn't the only one baffled by how Andrea left practice even more energetic than when she'd started, when everyone else ended up dead beat. The only upside was, at least they'd successfully tired out Jameson.

"Scoff all you like, sergeant. It's proven scientific fact that exercise improves your mood," Andrea said. She was in such high spirits, she did a little hop and a skip. "I feel like I could take on the world right now."

"I'm not sure you could, ma'am," Eddie said. "Have you seen yourself?"

"No, why? Is something wrong?"

"I think you'd best come see for yourself."

Eddie steered her away from the crowd and towards the garages, heading to the back where there was a small sink and a first aid kit. When Andrea saw her face in the mirror, she burst out laughing.

"Oh, Eddie, is this all you were worried about?"

"You're covered in blood!"

"Head wounds tend to be bleeders," Andrea said, starting to fill the sink. "They always look worse than they are." She dampened a cloth and began to clean her face, turning the water a rusty shade of pink as the dried blood came away. Her prediction had been right - under all the mess, she looked perfectly fine, other than a grazed cheek and a little scabbing just above the left eyebrow.

"Have you got any iodine?" she asked.

"Right here," Eddie said, fetching out the bottle. She poured a little on to some cotton wool. "C'mere, I'll do it."

Andrea stood patiently while Eddie dabbed iodine on the wounds, trying not to wince.

"I ain't hurting you, am I?"

"Nothing I can't manage."

"There. Think that's all of it." Eddie finished off the cut on Andrea's cheek. Her thumb lingered there just a moment or two longer than strictly necessary.

If Andrea noticed, though, she didn't care to mention it. She turned back to the sink and ran the water again, rinsing out the washcloth and scrubbing the stains off the metal.

"Eddie," she said lightly, "I've got a proposition for you."

"You do?" Eddie wasn't sure if she was excited or terrified.

"This is probably going to sound a bit abrupt, but I've been thinking about it for some time now, and I really hope you've been thinking the same way."

Eddie's mouth had gone dry. She took a step forward. "What d'you mean?"

Andrea looked up at her. Their eyes met. Andrea gave a soft, hesitant smile, and reached out to touch Eddie's arm.

"I was thinking, I'd like -" She paused. Eddie could've screamed. "I'd like to put you in for a commission."

The tension drained from Eddie so fast she had to reach out and grab hold of the sinktop to stop herself from falling over. She took a deep breath and swiftly pulled herself back together.

"Me? I mean, I'm flattered, but -" 

"Great!" Andrea said, interrupting before Eddie had the chance to start panicking. "I'm so glad you approve. I know how much you enjoy your job as it is, but you've got so much potential. Not to mention that I've had my work cut out lately. One of the things Puller said to me this morning was that a captain needs lieutenants they can depend upon - and I can't think of anyone in camp more dependable than you."

Eddie blinked. "I'd ask you if you were sure about this, but, well..." She smiled. "Ma'am, it'd be an honour."

Andrea looked delighted. "We're going to be a heck of a team."

 

Weeks passed, and Eddie heard nothing more on the matter. She had almost convinced herself that either Andrea had forgotten, or the application had been rejected, when a few days before Christmas, as she was hanging up paper chains in the mess hall, a clerk approached her and told her to report to Major Puller. Fifteen minutes later, she stumbled out of Puller's office in a daze, her sleeve suddenly bare of stripes and a brass bar gleaming on her collar.

It was very hard to avoid wondering _was that it_? She hadn't exactly been expecting a ticker-tape parade, but Eddie had imagined that receiving a commission involved a little more pomp and circumstance than what had amounted to barely more than, "Here you go, well done, now quit standing around and go do something officerly."

After a moment's thought, Eddie decided she might as well go and collect her stuff from barracks. She had no idea if they'd saved a bunk for her in the officers' quarters, but she knew she wasn't permitted to share a room with the enlisted any more. As she stumbled out of HQ, she felt hands coming down heavily on her shoulders, and jerked around to find Andrea and Corrigan had been waiting for her.

"Congratulations!" Andrea said. Before Eddie could react, she'd pulled her into a bear-hug that threatened to crush the air out of her.

Corrigan broke into song: "Happy commission to you, happy commission to you, happy commission Lieutenant Jo-ones, now don't fuck this up."

"Aw, you guys." Eddie knew she was blushing something fierce, but at least she could put it down to being flattered. "How did you know it was gonna be today?"

"Oh, a little bird in the HQ typing pool told us," Corrigan said. "I was expecting it some time soon, anyhow. Andie's been going on about this forever."

"I have _not_."

Corrigan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, maybe a little." Andrea shrugged. "It was important to me." She moved in closer, lowering her voice. "Please don't let on to the enlisted, but I'm sure you're aware that our officer corps are something of a mixed bag. It's taken a lot of persuasion to convince the powers that be that we'd have better luck promoting trustworthy women up out of the ranks rather than relying solely on those who've been through OCS. Not that there aren't plenty of good women coming to us out of training, but with a field commission, quality comes guaranteed."

"Which is more than you can say for some people around here," Corrigan muttered.

"But enough about that!" Andrea threw an arm around Eddie's shoulders. "What would you say to a celebratory egg nog at the Officers' Club?"

"Egg nog? What's the poor woman done to deserve that?" Corrigan said, catching hold of Eddie's sleeve and pulling her away. "You stick with me, Ed. _I'll_ buy you whiskey."

Eddie grinned. "I'm likin' this officer business already."

 

They left the Officers' Club in plenty of time to get back before curfew, but Eddie still hadn't picked up her things from the NCOs' hut. She only meant to go in quickly to collect her kit, but then she got talking to Burgin and Jean, and between one thing and another it was approaching midnight when she finally left.

She stepped quietly out into the darkness, looking around to check that nobody else was out there. It wouldn't reflect very well on her if she was caught breaking the rules on her very first night as an officer.

But no. All was silent and calm. No light was on in any building, and there was no sound other than distant waves crashing on to the shore. Well, that and the muffled laughter coming from round behind the hut.

\- wait a minute. _Behind_ the hut?

Eddie had no right to be lecturing anyone about being out at this time, but she still felt it her duty to go and investigate. She followed the sound, moving stealthily in the dark shadows between the huts. In the dim light, she could just about make out two figures, one tall and one short, locked in a tight embrace. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing.

Eddie coughed loudly. The two figures leapt away from one another, startled. One of them tried to make a break for it.

"Oh no you don't," Eddie said, easily outpacing the potential escapee to catch them by the collar. She looked down, recognised the face. "You're staying right here, Conley. Same goes for you -" She moved closer, trying to make out the other person's features. "Juergens?" Eddie blinked, but managed to summon up the self-control to not appear taken aback. "What are you two doing out here at this hour?"

"We, uh -" Runner squirmed. "C'mon, Chuckler, what were we doing?"

"Getting some air?" Chuckler ventured feebly.

"That's funny, 'cause it looked to me like you two were makin' out," Eddie said. She heard Runner gulp, and maybe it was the poor light, but Chuckler appeared to have gone green.

"No ma'am! Lou was, er, choking, and I was helping her get the blockage out," Runner said.

"With your tongue?" Eddie said.

Chuckler groaned and buried her face in her hands. "How fucked are we now?"

"Calm down," Eddie said. "I won't have you court-martialled. 'Least, not for a first-time offence." She let go of Runner, who moved to hide behind Chuckler. Neither of them could meet Eddie's gaze. Eddie sighed.

"Look, you ain't the first, and I'm sure you won't be the last. Just have some sense, alright? What you do in private is no business of mine or anyone else's, but Marine Corps property is not private, and it's certainly no place to be gettin' fresh. Now, 'cause it's late and I'm feeling charitable, I'll let you go with a warning, but the next person who catches you might not be so forgiving. Got that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Chuckler and Runner said in unison.

"Right then. Now get your asses into bed before we all get into trouble for being out this late."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Eddie hitched her kitbag back up on her shoulder, and turned to leave. As she walked away, she heard Runner whisper,

"Damn, that was close."

"Ah, we're alright," Chuckler said. "A big ol' dyke like Hillbilly won't give us any trouble."

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that!" Eddie called.

It was a good thing that they couldn't see the smile on her face as she walked away. Bless 'em, they were only kids. She only hoped that for their sake - and hers - that they took her advice.

 

The incident nagged at Eddie's mind over the week that followed. During football practice, and when she passed them in the mess hall or the laundry rooms, she often kept an eye on Chuckler and Runner to check they weren't doing anything that might give the game away. It broke her heart to do it, but she only had their best interests in mind. She'd heard too many stories about good men and women being hounded out of other camps for far less than what she'd caught those two up to; just a rumour, if it became disruptive enough, could be enough to sink a good career.

At least there was Christmas to take her mind off things. Last year, when she was in training, she had been granted a few days' furlough to go visit the folks. This time she was too far away. It hurt almost as bad as when she'd first gone away, but she could comfort herself with the letters they'd sent, and the knowledge that with all the back pay she'd saved up, this year Ma, Pa, and the kids would be getting something good for a change.

The day itself was very low-key. There was church in the morning, followed by Jean Riggi's best attempts at turning Marine Corps chow into an acceptable Christmas lunch for a couple of hundred hungry people, and later on, a party at the Officers' Club. It got pretty merry, but Eddie was too homesick to truly enjoy herself; when Keller started playing Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas on the piano, she had to excuse herself before she got all choked up.

She headed outside, hoping the cool night air would clear her head, and heard footsteps behind her.

"You okay?" she heard Andrea call.

"Fine," Eddie nodded. "Just takin' an early night."

"Oh, you can sleep it off tomorrow. Come back inside, you're missing Puller's rendition of Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire. It's extraordinary."

Eddie shook her head. "I'm sorry, Andie. I just ain't in the mood."

"Missing your family?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Because we all are." She felt Andrea's hand come to rest on her shoulder. "I'll walk you back."

"Thanks." They walked together in silence for a minute or two, before Eddie felt the need to speak. "Y'know, I've never heard you say much about your folks. What are they like?"

"There's not much to say, really," Andrea shrugged. "My father's a foreman in a textile mill. My mom's a housewife. I've got a big brother, Jamie - he's a captain in the Navy. Last I heard of him, he was somewhere out round about the Philippines."

"Two captains in the family. They must be proud."

Andrea smiled wistfully. "They wouldn't have settled for anything less."

"Hard to please, huh?"

"No, just... ambitious. And proud. Dad grew up in a tenement in Glasgow, and he always made such a big deal out of how he started out with nothing and got where he is now through his own hard work. Seeing as he's given us kids the education and opportunities he never had, he expects us to do even better. I think by that measure, he's gonna be disappointed if none of his grandchildren end up as president."

"Hell, if the rest of the Haldanes are anything like you, I wouldn't be surprised," Eddie said.

"And how about you?" Andrea said. "What's your family like?"

Eddie laughed. "Large. I'm the eldest of ten."

Andrea's eyes went wide. "Ten?"

Eddie nodded. "Yep. There's this story my Ma loves telling, that apparently when I was only about six or seven - and I was only the eldest of five back then - she found me in the yard trying to chase a stork away from the house, yelling at it that I didn't want it to bring me any more brothers and sisters."

Andrea laughed.

"They bug the hell out of me, most of the time, but I still love 'em to bits. And I really wish I could've been back with 'em today." Eddie thought she'd moved past this, but today it had ached like an old wound; for the first time, in a very long time, she felt a little guilty at having left them behind.

"At least we're still in America," Andrea said, after a pause. "And safe, and warm. That's something. And I like to think, even if it's not as good as the real thing, that we've made ourselves a good little family right here. Don't you think?"

Eddie felt a little warmth creep back into her, and the ache ease a little. "Yeah, that works. You've got the responsible big sisters, and bratty little sisters..."

"And ol' Granny Puller keeping an eye on us all," Andrea said, chuckling.

"And a couple of kissing cousins, too," Eddie said, unable to help herself. Andrea gave her a wry look.

"Oh yeah? What do you know that I don't?"

Eddie glanced around, and lowered her voice. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course."

"Few nights ago, I caught Conley and Juergens making out with each other."

Eddie watched Andrea's reaction carefully. She neither laughed nor appeared disgusted, but greeted the news with a thoughtful nod.

"What did you do about it?" she said.

"Gave 'em a ticking-off and told them not to do that kinda thing in camp." Eddie frowned. "What would you have done?"

"Probably the same thing," Andrea said. "I hope they don't get caught again. They're good kids. I wouldn't want them to get into trouble over something so silly."

"Silly?" Eddie said, surprised. "That's what you think about... stuff like that?"

"I think being kicked out of the Corps for it is." Andrea shook her head. "The only thing that surprises me about it is that there wasn't an incident like this sooner. It used to happen all the time when I was at school. When you put a lot of young people of the same sex in close confinement, it's practically inevitable."

Eddie shoved her hands in her pockets so Andrea couldn't see her fidgeting.

"I think it happens outside of close confinement too..." she said, trying her best to sound as neutral as possible.

"I didn't mean it like that - I mean - what do I mean? I suppose that people think it's safer, or there's more opportunities, or more temptation maybe, than there would be ordinarily." Anrea laughed sheepishly. "Gosh, I think every girl I knew at Mount Holyoke went through a queer phase at one time or another."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie said. "Did you?"

"I was far too busy with exams and sports to even _think_ about romance," Andrea said primly. "I think some of the girls might have carried a little bit of a torch for me, though."

"Wouldn't blame 'em," Eddie laughed. "You're kind of a head-turner."

"So I've been told." Andrea sighed, and brushed back a bit of hair that had fallen loose from its pinning. "This is going to sound very vain, and you're welcome to laugh at me and tell me how little I know, but sometimes, I wish I was plainer. A lot of people look at me and assume I'm just some dumb broad, and then they either don't make the effort to find out that I'm not, or they find out I'm not by chance and then get angry that I wasn't what they wanted me to be."

Eddie laughed bitterly. "And here's me wishing I was less plain so folks would actually listen to me. Guess you don't get taken seriously whatever happens."

"It's a rough old world, Eddie," Andrea said. She ran her hand down Eddie's arm. "Oh, and you're not plain. You're not plain at all."

Eddie felt that tension again, the reopening of the tiny window of possibility that had been present that night after Jean's wedding, but Andrea moved away and checked her watch.

"I should be getting back," she said, "They'll be wondering where I am." She looked up at Eddie, smiling softly. "G'night, Eddie. Merry Christmas." She stepped forward and pulled Eddie into a quick hug. For a brief, fleeting moment, Eddie was almost sure - almost but not entirely - she felt Andrea kiss her on the cheek.

And then Andrea walked away, leaving Eddie with a tingle of remembered contact on her skin, and a feeling of utter confusion.


	6. All Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which (for lack of a more period-appropriate phrase) shit starts to get real.

"Is it just me," Jean said, "or are the new boots getting younger?"

Eddie stood with her by the kitchen door, having a coffee and a smoke, watching as a group of boys ran after Lieutenant Keller like ducklings following their mother.

"Look at that one," Jean said, pointing at a short, pimple-faced boy struggling to keep up with the pack. "I bet his balls only dropped a week ago."

Eddie shrugged. "Maybe they just look younger 'cause we're getting older."

"Could be. I sure feel older."

"Missing Len?"

Jean nodded. "Like hell. Stupid patriotic fool."

Len'd had itchy feet for a while, Eddie knew, but it had still come as a surprise when he'd chosen to ship out again rather than stay in camp with his new wife. Maybe he didn't feel right working with someone he was married to. Maybe it was like Jean said, out of some kind of sense of patriotic duty. Hell, maybe he was just bored. Len had a fine career as an ocean-going Marine before the war, and he'd won a Silver Star for bravery on Guadalcanal. He might've done his time and earned enough points to not be obliged to face any more danger, but staying home to train wet-behind-the-ears new recruits was a waste of his talents.

Anyway, they could speculate all they liked, but Len hadn't given any reasons. He'd just apologised, upped and left, and now he was on the other side of the world.

"He won't be out there long," Eddie said, wishing she actually believed that. "The papers are all sayin' the Japs are on their last legs."

"The papers say a lot of things," Jean said. "We've outnumbered, outgunned and outfought 'em from the beginning, but that hasn't stopped it dragging on." She heaved a heavy sigh. "I just pray to God it won't come down to invading Japan."

"It won't," Eddie said. "Hell, they're already all but knocking on Hitler's door over in Europe. When he goes down, the Japs'll throw in the towel, and we'll all be able to go home."

"We'll see," Jean said. "Hope you're right."

Eddie just shrugged and sipped at her coffee. They smoked in thoughtful silence for a minute or two, until Stone came haring down the road towards them, kicking up a cloud of dust as she ran.

"Guess what?" she said, grinning widely.

"What?" Jean said.

"Go on, guess!"

"Someone spontaneously combusted. Errol Flynn came by looking for a date. You finally finished your scale model of the Golden Gate Bridge made out of old lumps of gum." Jean threw her arms wide. "I have no idea."

"Well, from now on, that's 'I have no idea, _ma'am_ '," Stone said. "I got a commission!"

"Really?" Eddie said. "Congratulations!"

She reached out and firmly shook Stone by the hand; Jean was a little more effusive, pulling Stone into an enthusiastic hug.

"How'd you swing that, then?" she said.

"Oh, Corrigan put in a word for me," Stone said. "I figure once she saw Haldane get away with recommending Eddie, she thought she'd try and see if she could do the same."

Jean looked unimpressed. "What, being a sergeant ain't good enough for you no more? The way things are going, I'm gonna be on my own."

"Hey, you've still got JP and Manny," Stone said. "Plus your new privates."

"Oh, yeah, they're great fun," Jean said, glancing back over to her shoulder to where Privates Tatum and Evans were waist-deep in a mound of potatoes. "I feel like a nursemaid."

"Everyone's new some time. Anyway, you ever need us, you know where we are," Eddie said.

"Anyway, wouldn't you prefer officers you know and trust to newly trained looeys you don't know from Adam?" Stone said.

Jean was about to reply, when there was a loud clang. 

"Oh god, I've dropped it on my foot!" Tatum wailed (if it wasn't Evans; Eddie hadn't learned to tell them apart yet).

Jean sighed. "Can't turn your back on 'em for five minutes. Sorry, lieutenants, coffee break is over."

"Fair enough," Stone said. "You ain't the only one with work to be getting on with." She turned to Eddie. "You busy this evening?"

Eddie considered it. "All depends on how many vehicles the new drivers manage to wreck over the course of the day."

"So you won't have time to give a new lieutenant a tour of the Officers' Club?"

"Oh, well, now, that's different..."

 

It wasn't just the enlisted who had received an influx of new arrivals. It was standing room only in the Officers' Club that night, and Eddie only recognised about half the people there. Getting drinks required a lot of elbowing and apologising, and as for finding somewhere to actually consume said drinks, Eddie was close to suggesting they go outside again when she heard a voice calling,

"Hey, Eddie! Over here!"

She craned her neck to see over the crowd, just about able to see Andrea waving at her. She grinned, raising her glass to indicate she'd heard her, and they made their way across the room to where Andrea and Corrigan had already staked out a table.

"Trust you to have started early," Stone said, addressing Corrigan.

"Hey, you. Just 'cause you're an officer now doesn't mean you can get away with being rude to me," Corrigan said.

"Why not? Always did before." Stone put her glass down on the table, spilling about half of it, and awkwardly folded herself into the tiny gap between table and available chair.

"Don't make me revoke that commission before you've even lost the shine on those bars."

"Anyway," Andrea said quickly, "I think tonight of all nights, we're all entitled to a drink."

"If it's you saying that, it must be bad," Eddie said. "New boots giving you trouble?"

Andrea shook her head. "The new boots are fine. It's the old salts who're running me ragged. Between De L'Eau and Smith sending the new girls in the QP off for long stands and tins of spotted paint, and Mary-Ella conning someone out of her new bedlinen and then stealing a picture of her boyfriend..."

"Oh, you mean Peck? That kid who's seeing some married guy in the Navy?" Eddie laughed. "I saw that photo, he ain't all that."

Andrea gave her a disapproving look. " _Eddie_."

"What? I made Leyden give it back." Eddie paused, shrugging. "Eventually."

"You think you've got it bad?" Corrigan said. "We've got two new platoon leaders in, both of them completely cuckoo. The first one, Larkin, hasn't been here a week and she's already got in some stupid vendetta with Leckie over a footlocker; and the other one, she's this French Canadian - don't even ask me what she's doing here - seemed completely fine all of yesterday, in great spirits, and then this morning I find her sat on her bed in nothing but her underwear, crying her eyes out." Corrigan took a long sip of her drink, wincing slightly. "I swear, H Company's where they put all the nuts."

"What's that make us, then?" Stone said.

"Squirrels," Corrigan said. "God knows I'd like to put some of 'em under ground."

"You're not the only ones, you know," Andrea said. "We've got a new lieutenant in as well, MacIntyre. I'm sure she'll be fine once she's settled in, but right now..." In all the months she had known Andrea Haldane, Eddie had never once heard her badmouth anyone. The silence that followed as she tried to think of a polite way of describing Mac spoke volumes. "Well, she's a lot like Jameson."

"That bad?" Stone said.

"She's not as opinionated as Jameson is, mind you," Andrea said thoughtfully. "Just a bit... loud, I think's the best way to put it. Then again, a lot of people are a bit loud, when they're trying to cover their lack of confidence."

"Give it a few weeks, the company'll knock her into shape. You can't be Little Miss Gung-Ho when you've got Mary-Ella giving you the Shelton Stare," Eddie said.

Corrigan and Stone both shuddered.

"I might as well look on the bright side," Andrea said. "She's tall and aggressive, so she'll at least be a good addition to the football team."

"Yeah, 'cause that's just what we need when we're gearing up for a game, somebody who's untrained but stubborn," Corrigan said.

"Has Keller set a date for that yet?" Stone said, looking somewhat anxious.

"Vern figures he'll be ready by early March," Andrea said.

Corrigan and Stone looked at one another, smirking.

"Ooh, it's _Vern_ , is it, now?" Corrigan said.

Andrea held up her hands. "I keep telling you, we're just friends."

"Yeah, yeah," Corrigan said.

"It's the truth! Eddie, back me up."

"What?" Eddie blinked. "What would I know?"

"Well, if I was dating Vern Keller - or anyone - you'd be the first I'd tell," Andrea said. "But I'm _not_. He's a very nice man, but he's not my type. And anyway, I wouldn't dare - Leckie would never speak to me again, and she's the best player I've got."

"Yeah, God only knows we don't need to make Leckie any more sulky," Stone said.

"I'll drink to that!" Corrigan said, raising her glass.

 

The morning of March the seventh was bright and cold. That day, as with every day that week, the girls were out at the crack of dawn practicing their technique. Andrea had been driving them extra hard for the past month, and she'd talked of little else but her preparations for the big game. Those who had stuck it out this far didn't seem to mind, though - now they had something to work for beyond just learning the game for its own sake, and a chance to prove just how far they'd come. So they had got up every morning, whatever the weather, playing and barely noticing the morning dew soaking their sneakers or the wind messing up their hair.

They also barely noticed it this morning when Major Puller came walking down the hill towards them. Normally Puller announced her presence with a hearty greeting and some order or other delivered at high speed and deafening volume, but today, she was uncharacteristically silent. She didn't need to talk, though; the expression on her face said enough.

The game slowly came to a halt as Puller walked across the pitch. She stopped next to Jean, who snapped straight and saluted. 

"Sergeant Riggi," Puller said, her voice quiet and hoarse. "May I have a word?"

Jean nodded, and followed Puller away to the edge of the field. The others gathered together, watching from a distance.

"Do you think she's in trouble?" Runner said.

"More likely Puller's had some thoughts about the kitchens and felt that half six in the morning was the best time to say it," Leckie replied.

"Nah, it's bad news," Mary-Ella said. "Major comes up to you with a face like that, actin' all quiet and caring, it's gotta be bad news." Just as Mary-Ella finished speaking, they heard a faint sob, and saw Jean double over, burying her face in her hands. Puller rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Now, why'd you have to go saying a thing like that?" Manuela said, and then ran after JP, who was already heading over to Jean to find out what was up. Before either of them could reach her, though, Jean had started walking away.

 

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened, and it wasn't long before news spread around that confirmed everyone's suspicions. Landings always meant losses, and there were many familiar names on the long list of men and boys who had died on the first day of Iwo Jima. Gunnery Sergeant Leonard Riggi was just one of them.

Jean's response was to work harder than ever, rarely leaving the kitchen, barely exchanging more than a few words of conversation with anyone. JP and Manuela kept a close eye on her and fended off intrusions from those with more curiosity than tact. Eddie, for her part, kept her distance. She had grieved for loved ones many times in her short life, and she knew how tiring it got to be constantly asked how you were.

It was Jean who brought the subject up, when Eddie came in at the end of a long day of work and found her still in the kitchen, furiously scrubbing pans. She put some coffee on to heat up, and they talked over trivial things for a short while before Jean said, out of nowhere,

"What I can't get my head round is how nothing's changed."

Eddie nodded, waited for her to go on.

"Not one goddamn thing. Work's still the same, people are still the same... the sun still rises, the sea goes in and out, the 1st Marines are still moving across that damn island..." She paused, a muscle twitching in her neck as she steadied herself and collected her thoughts. "That's the problem. It don't feel like he's gone at all, 'cause everything's just like it was when he out there but still alive. Then again, I don't know how it _does_ feel. Probably won't until I finally see his coffin. Maybe it won't feel like that ever. I don't know."

"You just kinda want everything else to stop for a while, while you get used to it," Eddie said.

Jean nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, pretty much. 'Specially when everyone else is still doin' fine, going about being all 'oh, I had such a bad day, I got a bit rained on and stubbed my toe, my life's so awful', and I just wanna grab 'em and shake 'em and tell 'em they haven't got anything to complain about." She took a sip of her coffee. "But then again, I ain't the only one in camp who's lost somebody. Hundreds of guys get killed every day. I can't act like mine's anything special."

"But he was," Eddie said. "'Cause he was yours. Is yours."

"Yeah." Jean sighed. "Damn, I'm gonna miss that soft-hearted son of a bitch." She drained the last of her cup, setting it back down on the table with a bang. "You know what, though?"

"What?"

"If I could go back and do it over, knowing from the start how it was gonna turn out, I still wouldn't change a thing."

Eddie allowed herself a small smile, mouth curling up at one side.

"That's the risk you take when you fall for someone, I guess. You let them in, they can hurt you worse than anything. But it's a risk worth taking if you can be together, even if it's only for a short while."

"Damn, Jean, that was almost philosophical."

Jean raised her eyebrows. "Now, you listen to me, Edna Jones. I know what you're like - same as Len was. He didn't want to take that risk either. You best promise me, when you meet someone special, you go after them."

Eddie frowned. "Er, okay."

"Oh, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," Jean said. "You act like you don't need nobody, but I think what it really is is that you're scared to be with someone. And that's a goddamn stupid way of going about things."

"What would you know about it?" Eddie snapped, tensing up, shoulders rising.

"More than you do," Jean replied. "You promise me, Ed. No wasted chances."

Eddie sighed heavily. She could come up with a whole long list of excuses and justifications, but that was all they'd be; just excuses.

"Okay, fine," she said, holding up her hand like she was saying the pledge of allegiance. "No wasted chances."

Jean smiled, tight-lipped, and slapped her on the shoulder. "Good woman."

 

The day had arrived, and even bad news couldn't take away from the excitement of finally getting to put all that training into action. The way things were going, though, it looked like they were going to be defeated before they'd even got out there. They'd never worn body armour during training, but after several prolonged discussions, Andrea and Keller had decided to play the match as a contact sport, and therefore everybody would need protection. That was, if they could ever figure out how to put it on.

"Jesus Christ, and I thought a girdle was trouble," JP muttered, as she tried and failed to adjust her shoulderpads.

"You got it on upside down!" Manuela said, helping her undo the straps. "C'mon, lift your arms."

"I can't, that's the problem!"

"Does anybody know what this is for?" Sledge called out, holding up a small dome-shaped object.

Leckie laughed. "You ain't gonna need that, it's a cup."

Sledge turned red. Runner snatched it off her. "Maybe if we got two each we could put them over our boobs?" She struck a pose, holding them in place.

"I think it's best if we just leave those," Andrea said. She had dressed faster than the rest of them. With her hair tightly rolled and curled and her shoulders made jarringly broad by the armour beneath her shirt, she looked like some kind of Valkyrie. 

Eddie, meanwhile, felt completely ridiculous. The shoulderpads stuck so far out she looked like she had wings, and her shirt was so baggy she felt almost lost in it. It also didn't make any sense to her that they'd been made to wear the shirts and armour over their regular all-in-one exercise suits, rather than being allowed to borrow shorts; the uniform regulations were all fine and well, but it was gonna be a nightmare if she needed to pee at some point within the next few hours.

When everyone had finally managed to get dressed, Andrea called them all to attention.

"Is everybody ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," came a chorus of voices.

"If anybody wants to change their mind and sit out the game, now's the time to speak up."

Nobody moved. Andrea smiled widely.

"Good! In that case, then, let's go show those boys what we're made of!"

The girls charged out of the barracks and raced down to the field. Just as Eddie was about to leave, she saw Andrea pause at the doorway and take out a tube of lipstick.

"Really, Andie, of all the times to worry about your looks," Eddie said.

Andrea glanced up.

"I'm not worrying," she said. She dabbed off the excess with a paper tissue. "It's just habit. I have to have my face on, or I don't feel dressed." She smiled at Eddie. "I'll do you too, if you want."

Eddie cringed. "No thanks. I can't stand having anything on my face."

"This coming from a woman who spends half her time covered in engine oil." Andrea beckoned. "C'mere." She brandished the lipstick. Eddie instinctively reared away from it, making Andrea laugh. "Oh, don't be silly, it won't hurt you! Anyway, I'm not going to do your lips. Just lean down a little."

Warily, Eddie leaned in. Andrea reached up, her hand carefully cupping Eddie's jaw, and drew a line of lipstick across each of Eddie's cheekbones.

"There," she said. "Now I've got my warpaint on, and you've got yours. It won't work as well as black grease for keeping off the glare, but you do look suitably fearsome."

"Thank you, ma'am," Eddie said.

"Now, we'd best catch up with the others," Andrea said, and didn't give Eddie any chance to respond before she'd gone haring off down the track. She glanced back over her shoulder. "Last one to the field's a rotten egg!"

Eddie muttered an extremely hasty prayer, and started running.


	7. The Game

"Okay, girls, the name of the game is dodge and weave."

The sun was high in the cloudless sky, and there was an almost tangible feeling of anticipation in the air. At least half the camp had turned out to watch the game, some sitting along the high ridge of the hill, others standing in uneven rows closer to the field. The two teams seemed very well-matched: certainly each other's equals in terms of discipline (or lack thereof) and although there was the sex divide to consider, Haldane's team was comprised of young women at the peak of their fitness, whereas Keller was in charge of a rabble of teenage boys. If anything, the betting seemed to be going against the men.

Andrea stood at one end of the field with her team gathered close around her, giving them one final pep talk before the game commenced.

"Right now, we don't know whether the boys will be too gentlemanly to try and tackle us, or whether they'll be deliberately aggressive in order to provoke us into panicking and conceding the game. Either way, we have to take it in our stride. Don't be afraid of getting hurt or muddy. If you get knocked down, pick yourself up again. If you don't want to get knocked down, you'd better be fast. We don't have their brute strength and weight, but we've got speed, agility, and ingenuity. I believe, if we make all make full use of those three things together, we can win this game. Has everyone got that?"

"Yes, Captain Haldane," came the collective reply.

"Stay alert. Keep your eyes and ears open - for your team members, for your opponents, and for me. Oh, and remember - whatever they do, we are going to play fair. I don't want to see any spitting or hair-pulling, and absolutely no attempts to knee anyone in the groin. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain Haldane."

"Private Leyden, I didn't hear you. Promise me you won't knock anyone's teeth out, Billie?"

"You can count on me, Cap," Leyden nodded.

"Right, I'm glad that's settled. So, team, are we going to kick some butt?"

"Yes, Captain."

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

"YES, CAPTAIN!"

"That's more like it!" The huddle broke apart. Andrea turned and stood with her hands on her hips, looking downfield at their opponents.

"Are you all ready over there, Lieutenant?" she called out.

"Ready as we'll ever be, Captain!" Keller replied.

Andrea smiled. "Alright then. Let's play some ball."

 

The two teams faced off against each other. The referee was Gunnery Sergeant Haney, an old salt so old and salty he probably had barnacles, who had gamely volunteered to preside over the match. He flipped a coin; Andrea's team were to start off with possession. Andrea and Keller shook hands, and Haney blew his whistle. The game was on.

At first, it was more than a little shambolic. Both teams were far too wary of the other, chasing each other around but rarely following through with their intentions. It was only after Andrea knocked Keller over with a flying tackle, both of them laughing as they got to their feet, that their respective teams started to finally relax enough to play properly.

Andrea had selected her offensive team for speed more than size, give or take a couple of taller girls picked for their ability to throw; she herself, playing as a fullback, was the main exception to what was otherwise a rather skinny and jittery line-up. She was also very obviously the most skilled on the team, but the men's tendency to focus entirely on blocking her meant that the others could take advantage of the clear space they were allowed. 

About ten minutes in, Eddie got lucky. Leaping up and stretching so hard she could feel her joints click, she managed to intercept a pass and quickly throw it over to Runner. Runner, thankfully, more than lived up to her nickname. With astonishing agility, she turned on her heel and darted up the wing, passing to Burgin, who lunged for the end zone and scored the first point of the match.

The crowd burst out into raucous cheering and whooping. So did the girls. Burgie had barely a moment's warning before she was engulfed by a horde of squealing teammates, while Keller's boys stood and stared, looking somewhat taken aback.

 

After that, the game began to get serious. Their pride wounded by having conceded the first points, the men's team pushed back hard. Ninety seconds in to the next play, De L'Eau was sent flying by a particularly rough tackle, and fled the field, biting back tears.

"Where the hell are you going?" Jameson bellowed from the sidelines. "Get back here, you sissy!"

Andrea jogged up to her. "Could you please leave the team talk to me?" She didn't wait for Jameson's reply, but headed straight off to see if De L'Eau was okay. She came back alone.

"Her ankle's twisted, there's no way she can keep playing. Sledge, get up here."

"Me, ma'am?" Sledge looked up, startled. 

"I don't see any other Sledges around here." Andrea smiled warmly. "C'mon, Eugenie, you've trained so hard for this. Do you really want to spend the whole match sitting on the bench?"

Sledge looked like she was sorely tempted to say yes, but Andrea just kept on smiling, in that strange way she had that made you feel inexplicably obliged not to disappoint her. 

"Alright, ma'am," Sledge said at last, resigned to her fate.

"Attagirl!" Andrea slapped Sledge on the back, nearly knocking her off the bench. "I'll call you up when we need you. Right now, though, I want everyone in defence to get over here now - we've got the next play to consider."

Several minutes later, Haney blew his whistle and play resumed. When the guys were on the offensive, they had the advantage in size and aggression, and they very quickly made up the points deficit. Andrea had a few ideas which caught the opposition out once or twice, but it was clear that now the novelty of playing against women had worn off, the guys were in it to win.

"Okay, let's think about this," Andrea said. "None of us can meet a rushing player head-on and come out on top, but that doesn't mean we can't take them down. Go round the side. Round the back. Gang up on them, if you have to. We've already lost our lead, but we can stop them doing any more damage, if we just focus."

The play started again. Andrea sighed heavily.

"I just wish I could play more than one position," she said. "The only person I have in defence who really knows what she's doing is Leckie, but because she's a private - and possibly also because she's Leckie - half of the rest of them won't listen to her instructions. It's infuriating."

Eddie just nodded. Despite all the training, she didn't have Andrea's eye for the finer points of the game; all she could see was that they were getting tired and struggling to keep up. One of the men made a rush for goal, and Andrea dashed to the sidelines.

"Corrigan, Leyden, get the hell up there, now!"

She looked further upfield, to where the man was heading. The only woman they had up there was Jameson.

"Jameson, get him!"

Jameson's expression had gone strange and distant.

" _Jameson!_ "

Corrigan and Leyden leapt at the same time; the man stumbled as they attempted to tackle him, but kept on running unhindered. Jameson just stared at him as he came nearer, her expression one of increasing horror. Other people were screaming at her now - not only Andrea, but Corrigan and Stone, and Leckie was coming out with a variety of things that'd get her court-martialled in any other situation.

The man ran straight at her. Jameson shrieked, and before Eddie's disbelieving eyes, fell to her knees and then curled up in the foetal position, right there on the pitch.

"Oh god." Andrea clutched her hands to her head.

Haney blew his whistle, calling a time out.

"Okay, someone get her off the pitch," he said. "On a goddamn stretcher, if you have to."

In the end, Stone quietly escorted her away; Eddie could hear Jameson whimpering faintly as she went. The others watched in disbelief.

"If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen!" one of the men on the other team yelled.

"Get out? It's the best place for 'em!" one of his teammates said. There was boisterous laughter from some of the others.

"I'll give you best place," Chuckler started, pushing up her sleeves, but Runner held her back.

"Wait until we're playing again," she hissed. "Then we'll kick their asses."

"Quite right, Conley," Andrea nodded, gesturing for them all to gather close. "I don't know exactly what just happened, but I do know that it has no bearing on the rest of us as players. So we're another woman down. It happens. Are we downhearted?"

"No!" the team shouted as one.

"And are we going to win this game?"

"Yes!"

"Then let's play like we mean it."

 

Strangely enough, having Jameson out of play seemed to give the team a new lease of life, and it wasn't long before they regained possession of the ball. Admittedly, it only happened because one of the boys was showboating and ran backwards into Leckie, but the important thing was that they were on the offensive again.

At the start of the next play, Andrea snapped back to Chuckler, who ran upfield as fast as her legs could take her, tailed by a small horde of men trying to keep pace.

"Don't just run after, get round the side and cut her off!" Keller called, but they weren't listening.

Chuckler passed to Eddie, who caught it rather badly but just about managed to keep hold of it. One of the guys had been marking her, and she passed back just as he ran into her. When she'd got back to her feet, Sledge had the ball, and she looked terrified.

"C'mon, Sledge!" Sledge was rooted to the spot, several guys honing in on her while she frantically looked around for someone to pass to.

"Don't pull a Jameson on us, Sledge!" Corrigan yelled from the sidelines. "Just run for it!"

Andrea raced up from the mid-line into a convenient position. "Over here, Eugenia!"

Sledge threw the ball like it was a live grenade, darting away in just enough time to avoid being taken out by a flying tackle. The unfortunate boy skidded through the mud chin-first, and Sledge daintily stepped over him before starting to run upfield.

Meanwhile, Andrea looked like she was going to go the whole way. She dashed, feinted, pretended to pass to Leyden but then sent the ball sailing in the other direction to where Burgin was waiting. Burgin leapt, grabbed it, then passed back to Andrea, who'd somehow managed to run the width of the field in a matter of moments. She caught the ball effortlessly, and sprinted for the touchline.

Eddie stopped and just watched, willing Andrea onwards. She was getting near - only a few feet to go - and then, no more than two paces from the line, about four men jumped on her at once. Haney blew the whistle.

"Andie!" Eddie called.

"I'm alright!" came the muffled reply. Andrea poked her head up through a pile of tangled limbs. Her helmet was askew and there was blood smeared across her cheek - hers or someone else's, it was impossible to tell - but she was smiling widely. "Gentlemen, if you'd kindly let me up."

All four of the men offered a hand as they got to their feet, but Andrea got up by herself once she had the space to be able to do so. She casually brushed the dirt off her knees, and touched her hand to her face, noticing the blood for the first time.

"You okay?" Eddie said.

"It's all part of the game, Ed," Andrea said. She pursed her lips and then cringed, putting her hand again to the open cut. "Would you mind whistling for me?"

"Sure thing." Eddie stuck two fingers in her mouth, and whistled loud enough she could've been heard from the other side of camp. "Alright, ladies! Team huddle!"

 

Andrea's plans might have worked if everyone had pulled together, but the team was showing signs of running out of energy. Chuckler and Runner were still raring to go, and Eddie felt she had a fair bit of fight left in her, but everyone else seemed either exhausted, defeated or both. They had lost several players: quite aside from De L'Eau's twisted ankle and Jameson's nervous breakdown, Oswalt had left the field streaming blood after taking a hit right in the nose, and Leckie had somehow managed to run into a goal post and give herself concussion.

By the last quarter of the game, they were battered, bloody, and fifteen points down, and most of them just wanted this whole thing to be over. Andrea, however, was not willing to admit even the possibility of defeat.

"Okay, this is the situation. We've got nothing to lose, and everything to gain. It might seem daunting, but we can still win this game. We can only win it, however, if we work for it. In short, ladies: I want you to play rough. Fair, of course - but rough. Forget your comfort. Forget your dignity. Just keep that goddamn ball moving forward." For once, Andrea did not wait to hear any comments, pausing only to take a breath before continuing. "Eddie, Stone, don't hold back; throw as far and hard as you can. The rest of us are fast enough to handle it. Especially you, Conley - you've been a fantastic halfback so far, and I need you to keep up that standard now. Sledge, you're doing brilliantly, and I'm keeping you up there. Just stick near me, if you can. All of you - offense, defence, every single one - you've been amazing. If I don't make it to the end of this match, I just want you to know how proud I am of you all for getting this far. It's been an honour."

She took a deep breath, and clapped her hands together. "That's all. Let's go win this thing."

Haney blew the whistle. Andrea's speech seemed to have done the trick in giving the team back some of the enthusiasm they'd lost, and they made good progress forwards. One of the boys took the ball off Eddie with a tackle that'd leave her ribs aching for days, but at the start of the next play, Stone managed to intercept a long pass with a truly astonishing leap, springing up like a gazelle and racing upfield while everyone was still wondering how she'd managed to get that high. She passed to Burgin, who in a long, zigzagging run, took the ball upfield to where Chuckler, in a manner that was practically nonchalant, dropkicked it neatly through the uprights.

The crowd roared their approval. Runner raced up to Chuckler and hugged her, stretching up to plant a sloppy kiss right on her lips. ("I knew it!" Jameson yelled, but nobody took any notice.) Chuckler waved and bowed, basking in the affection of the crowd - but although it was a good start, it wasn't enough in itself to make up the points deficit.

It was clear the men had been resting on their laurels a little for the past twenty minutes or so. When they realised the game was not yet a foregone conclusion, they pushed back harder. Once they'd lost the ball again, it was a long time before they recovered it, and only after an undignified scuffle in which Mac nearly dislocated a man's shoulder. Andrea started off the scrimmage again, passing to Burgin, who threw to Stone, who ran down the sidelines. She looked like she was about to make for the touchline, but then became aware she wasn't going to make it; just before the opposition linebacker charged into her, she flung the ball sideways, hoping there was someone near to catch it.

That someone turned out to be Sledge. Every previous occasion on which she'd found herself with the ball, she'd looked a little taken aback, but this time, there was no moment of hesitation. She quickly tucked the ball under her arm and ran for it. She evaded one tackle - then another - passed to Runner, who kept the ball long enough to feed it back to Sledge as she raced for the touchline. Eddie watched with her heart in her mouth, willing Eugenia onwards. 

"You can do it, Sledge!" Andrea yelled, her voice loud and piercing in contrast to the sudden hush that had fallen on the crowd.

Sledge ran like a hound just out of the traps, leaving men staggering behind her. And then, just feet from the goal line, she tripped, skidding on the wet grass and falling flat on her face. She stretched her arms out in front of her, making one last forlorn attempt to fling the ball forwards, but it slipped from her grasp and bounced off to the side.

Eddie slapped her hand to her forehead. Well, at least she'd tried.

Two extremely uneventful minutes of play later, the game was over, and the men had won. When Haney blew the final whistle, the victors started whooping and hollering, excitably embracing and slapping one another on the back. The girls just stood and watched in dejected silence.

Keller strolled across the field to Andrea, holding out his hand.

"Damn good game," Andrea said, shaking it firmly. "Thanks for not going easy on us."

"And thank _you_ , Captain, for putting up such a good fight," Keller replied. "Best game I've played in ages."

"So, I'd take it you'd be willing to accept a rematch - say, in a month's time?" Andrea said.

Keller smiled. "Hey, let's make it best of three." He glanced around. "Where's Leckie? Is she okay?"

"She's over on the bench with Nurse Stern - a bit dazed, but coherent. I'm sure it'd make her day if you went to see how she was," Andrea said.

"I really should. She deserves her share of the congratulations in getting this team together," Keller said. He glanced over to where Leckie was sat on the sidelines, and bit his lip; a coy look Eddie had never seen on him before. "Plus, I was kinda thinking about asking her to dinner some time."

"Do it," Andrea said. "That's an order."

Keller grinned widely, saluting her. "Yes, ma'am!" He took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm before strolling off to talk to Leckie.

"Well," Andrea said, wiping mud off her cheeks. "I think on the whole, we can say that that wasn't a _complete_ disaster."

 

It was a huge relief to get into a hot shower and wash away all the blood and dirt. It was barely even evening, but all Eddie wanted to do now was go back to her bunk and sleep for the next thousand years or so.

When she got there, though, she couldn't get any rest. Her head was buzzing, her ears ringing; when she closed her eyes, all she could see was Andrea's chalkboard diagrams of tactics and plays, none of which had worked worth a damn when they'd tried to make them happen in the field. She kept thinking about what she should have done differently, now she could look back from a distance, and that got her on to thinking about all the other things in her past she might have done differently, if she'd known.

After an hour or two of doing nothing but lie there and fret, Eddie gave up. She got out of bed, slipped into a t-shirt and khaki slacks, and then picked up her guitar. 

The sun was setting now, and her favourite spot beside the garages was completely deserted. Quiet and solemn as a priest setting out his wine and wafers, Eddie sat down on a crate and tuned up her guitar. She closed her eyes and took a moment to just breathe in the sweet air and savour the silence, and then she put her fingers to the strings and started to play the blues.

Like the shower had soothed her sore muscles, the music did a little to ease her troubled mind - but just as hot water couldn't entirely remove the deep ache that'd be bothering her for days, playing couldn't take away the troubled thoughts that were making it hard to sleep. She closed her eyes and tried to lose herself to it, thinking of nothing but keeping her hands moving even though they were so tired and numb she could hardly feel them, sinking so deep into it she didn't realise at first that the voice she could hear wasn't coming from her imagination.

Eddie opened her eyes, and saw Andrea leaning against a jeep, quietly singing along.

"How long you been here?" Eddie said.

Andrea shrugged. "A few minutes. It seemed a shame to interrupt." She walked over and sat beside Eddie on the crate. "So, what're you doing out here this time of night? Don't you normally practice outside your hut?"

Eddie played a few notes in a minor key. "Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to bother no-one else. How about you?"

"Well, I'd been intending to go to the Officers' Club to drown my sorrows, but then I heard this sorrowful-sounding music drifting from the garages, and I wanted to go make sure we hadn't got an infestation of depressive gremlins."

Eddie couldn't help but smile. "Very wise of you. They're the worst kind. There y'are, driving along thinking everything's fine, and then suddenly you realise there's some l'il bastard hanging on to the undercarriage reading out Emily Dickinson poems."

"Doesn't bear thinking about," Andrea said. "But anyway-" She prodded Eddie in the arm. "You're avoiding the subject. What's given you the blues? I somehow don't think it's just losing the game."

Eddie shook her head. "You're right. It's a pity and all, but that ain't it." She thought it over, trying to work what _was_ it, and sighed. "It's a whole lot of things, I guess. Tired, sore; lost the game; feelin' sorry for Jean; and just bein' plain old lonesome." She shrugged. "Don't worry about me, Andie. I get like this sometimes. I'll be back to my regular self tomorrow."

Andrea gently ran her hand down along the length of Eddie's arm, a simple gesture of comfort which did far more than any words ever could have. Her fingers settled over the back of Eddie's hand; she made to move away, but Eddie swiftly reached over to stop her.

"It's okay," Eddie said.

She put her guitar down by her side. Andrea shuffled a little closer, until she was leaning against Eddie's side. There were no lights on in the garage, only the faint glow of the half-moon. Only the most observant of passers-by would have seen them, and they'd have to be deliberately looking.

"When this is over," Andrea said, stroking her thumb across Eddie's wrist, "I will miss this very much." She paused; Eddie heard her swallow. "I'll miss you."

Eddie nodded. "Me too."

"You can come and visit me, you know. Any time you like. And I'll write to you - every week - and -" Andrea stopped, swallowing again. Eddie could just about make out her features in the low light; she looked worried. It wasn't an expression which suited her.

She could feel Andrea's pulse against the back of her hand. It was racing. Jean's words from that morning - was it really only that morning? It felt so long ago - were still fresh in her mind.

_No wasted chances_ , Eddie told herself, and fought down the sick twist of fear in her stomach.

"Andrea," she said.

"Yes?" Andrea said quietly.

"Andie, I -"

"Go on."

Eddie took a deep breath. "Andie, would you mind if I kissed you?"

Andrea looked taken aback for a moment - a moment that lasted long enough that Eddie was on the verge of bursting out with a string of apologies and maybe then into tears - and then suddenly, her expression changed into a look of utter delight.

" _Mind_? I think you'd make me the happiest woman in camp!"

Now it was Eddie's turn to be taken aback. "Really?"

"Really."

"Really really?"

" _Eddie_." And before Eddie could panic herself right out of the moment, Andrea leaned forward and kissed her.

It was rather clumsy at first, given that they were both smiling too much to do it properly, but they relaxed into it once it became clear that neither of them were going anywhere. Eddie cupped Andrea's cheek and kissed her soft and slow, with the most careful and tender little brushes of lips, breathing in deep and getting a noseful of the sweet smell of soap and cotton and all the other things that made up Andrea.

And then Andrea playfully nipped at Eddie's lower lip, tip of her tongue darting forwards, and that was when things got serious. Eddie put her arms round Andrea's waist and pulled her close, half on to her lap, kissing her with the desperation of months of pent-up longing. Andrea responded with equal passion, flinging her arms around Eddie's neck and raking her fingers through Eddie's hair. It was wild, dirty, unrestrained - it was the kind of kiss a movie would cut to black on.

No, it was more than that. It was a pure chord ringing out on a perfectly tuned guitar. It was the smooth purr of a brand new engine. It was what Eddie had dreamed of doing since the first time she'd set eyes on Andrea Haldane, and it was better than she'd ever imagined.

Which was pretty good going, for a kiss.

When they finally broke away after several long, blissful minutes, they were both panting for air and grinning like two bankrobbers who'd just made away with a million.

"Wow," Andrea said.

Eddie couldn't say anything at all. Andrea frowned.

"Eddie? Say something."

"Nng," said Eddie.

"Something other than 'nng'?"

Eddie let out a breathless laugh. "Gimme a moment, I'm still recovering."

"Please, you can't be all dizzy and speechless just from a few kisses."

"When they're with the prettiest girl in camp? Sure I can."

Andrea laughed. "Oh, you flatterer."

"You know it's true."

Andrea shook her head. "Second, at the very most."

"After who?"

Andrea leaned in and kissed her again, rubbing her nose against Eddie's as she drew back. "Who d'you think, silly?"

In all her twenty-seven years, Eddie did not think she had once, ever, even in jest, been called pretty. It was only her pride that kept her from blushing and giggling like a lovestruck schoolgirl. Instead, she put her arm around Andrea's waist and pulled her close.

"You know, I think this could be the start of a beautiful relationship."

Andrea leaned over Eddie's lap, picking the guitar up off the ground and handing it back. She kissed Eddie on the cheek, then rested her head on Eddie's shoulder.

"Play it, Ed. Play As Time Goes By."

Eddie laughed. "I can't, it's a piano piece." She nuzzled the top of Andrea's head. "I'll think of something."

If she lived to be a hundred, she would always remember this moment. The moon was in the sky and the sea was washing gently against the shore. Her guitar was in her lap, and the best woman she'd ever known was cuddled up close beside her. God was in his heaven, and all was right with the world - or nearer to being right than it had been a year ago, and getting righter all the time.

Eddie closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and began to sing.

" _Well, there are strange things happenin' every day..._ "


End file.
